CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(IVIonographs) 


ICMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monograph  ies) 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microredroductions/lnstltut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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El 


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I      I    Covers  damaged  / 


Couverture  endommagee 


□    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
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Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
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D 
D 
D 


D 


D 


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I j   Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommagees 


D 


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D 


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This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below  / 

Ce  document  est  filme  au  taux  de  reduction  indique  ci-dessous. 


lOx 

14x 

18x 

22x 

26x 

30x 

12x 


16x 


20x 


24x 


28x 


Z] 

32x 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of; 


Literary  and  Historical    Society  of  Quebec 
Quebec 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grace  ^  la 
g^n^rositA  de: 

Societe   litteraire  et  historique  du  Quebec 
Quebec 

Las  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compie  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet^  dc  l'exemplaire  film*,  et  en 
conformit*  avec  i9s  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmaga. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimie  sont  filmds  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film^s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
derniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbolf*  — ♦- signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  peuvent  etre 
film^s  i  des  taux  de  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film6  ^  partir 
de  Tangle  supirieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mithode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICROCOFi     KcSOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

iANGI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


1^  II   2.8 

ill  2.5 

IM     "^      '""^ 

m    \\M         2.2 

IT    IP^ 

If    IIIIM 

2.0 

t^ 

*-  ,_ 

U.Ui_ 

1.8 

1.4 

1.6 

^     APPLIED  IIVMGE 


I6'3i   East   Mom   Street 
(•'ochesler,   New   York        14609       USA 
':f  .    -h;  -  0300-  Phone 
•■■        "^989  -  Fox 


THK 


I 


THK 


POETICAL    WORKS 


01^ 


SAMUEL  LOVER. 


« 


Jaqucn.     V.ill  you  t^'vml 

AmiiHs.    Movu  at  your  rcquost  than  to  jiKase  niyse'f. 

»  *  «  *  *  If  4:  Hi  «  * 

Toiichdnne.    Lovuns  nro  given  to  x>oetry, 

Ab  Wv  Like  It. 


NEW  yorjv : 

D.  k  J.  HADLIER  i^L'  C  J.,  No.  ni  l^AIJCLAY  STREET. 
JIO^TIIEAL:    %">  IxOTIlfi  D.\,AIR  STIiEET. 


1 

b(K 
lift 
Ult; 

pil< 

slu: 

tiin 
cull 

It  i 

pul 
the 
tos 
the 
li 
;i   s 

is  li 
not 

hUlil 


iiig- 


TREFA  CE. 


When  an  uuthor  Avritos  a  piffuce  to  a  fifth  edition  of  his 
book,  he  },'onoriilly  phiinos  himself  on  the  Huccess  wliich  ,'i 
lifth  edition  implies;  but  so  fur  from  iii(hil.,qnj,' in  any  v\- 
ultaney  on  tho  subject,  I  confess  that,  were  the  folhmin.,' 
pao-cs  to  be  suljuiittetl  to  tiu;  world  for  tho  first  time,  I 
should  fear  to  publish  them  ;  f.n-  I  feel  there  ar.-  many 
ainouf^  them  unetpial  to  bear  the  test  of  a  strict  crititusm,  if 
considered  as  merely  literary  productions.  At  the  same 
time,  I  venture  to  beheve  that,  in  this  continued  and 
enlarged  publication,  some  are  sufficiently  readable  to  save 
me  from  the  charge  of  presumption. 

This  volume  is  not  put  forth  to  court  a  new  ceh.'brily. 
It  is  ])ut  a  collection  of  compositions,  most  of  them  o/d  iu 
public  favor;  and  though  they  are,  therefore,  almost  beyond 
the  perilous  pale  of  tho  critic,  still  would  I  say  a  few  words 
to  some  who  may  read  them  for  tho  first  time,  divorced  from 
the  music  to  Avhich  they  have  been  wedded. 

In  the  first  place,  I  would  beg  to  remind  the  critic  that 
!i  song,  as  a  peculiar  sort  of  composition,  nmst  n,,  h*; 
measured  by  ordinary  rules  of  criticism.  Tho  song-writer 
is  limited  within  many  bounds  to  which  other  writers  are 
not  restricted.  Tho  song-writer's  work  nuist  be  within  a 
smali  compass ;  so  far  he  must  have  the  power  of  condens- 
ing-a  great  quality,  which  if  he  possess,  allowance   ought 


4  rUKI'MK. 

{:,  \w  i.;::(lo  for  his  vrant  of  pmiu;  ot'ior.      A  f^'oni:'',  if  written 
i(,  ;u;y  j.iirticuhir  t^;io,  in;.y  rc^iiiro  a  ixrwliar  luotre,  ta-vin;< 
in;^r!!iiity.      A  soi^p;  lunsi:  be  ("JiistnicU';]  i'^r  tnii^iuL^  railicr 
tlaiu  for  viialiujj-,  a-nl  lieiicc,  to  acconniKRlale  tlic  voc^alist, 
it  -lionia  l)e  l.iiiit  up  of  wonls  iiaviiiii;  as  laaay  open  vowels, 
aial  as  free  from  i/uttural  and  liissiuj;  souials,  as  possible, 
ana  in  EiiKlisb  tbcso  recprirenieuts  are  very  aillieult.    A>>a,ln, 
ii  soni;-  must  suit  the  peculiar  iliytbm  of  souio  iiir,  vrbenee 
a  uisaavantn<^o  arises  to  the  author  when  his  song  iy  read  by 
tliosc  who  hpvc  never  heard  the  air  to  which  it  is  adapi'd. 
The  hues  niay  bo    iidniirably  fitted  to  the   air,  and   sound 
most  snir.(;thly  when  sung',  but  when  submitted  to  ordinary 
readiu--  may  appear  rough,  if  ]iot  absohitely  faulty  in  jneire, 
and  bene*'  nearly  all  songs  are  less  likely  to  bo  eu[;ltonious 
when  J'ead  tlnin  when  sung.     A  critic  naiy  consider  a  song 
to  \v;od:    grai'.deur   or    vignr  of     expression— a  w:ird  winch 
tluj  wii'.er  lunaself  has  lamented,  very  probab.ly,  but  lie  has 
been  compelled  to  use  good  ^uini"(l  W(jrds,  rather  than  irod- 
vi'j  ones  ;  and  this  should  bo  ever  kept  in  miml  v.hen  v.o 
read  scnigs  that  have  been  n.iade   for  singing.     Now,  every 
song  in  this  collection  was  not  oiily  mado  for  shiging,  but 

has  bc<m  smig. 

Jmlging  from  som.c  of  ilio  highest  literary  evidence,  wo 
ii:;iy  conclude  that  to  write  a  good  scmg  is  no  such  eiisy 
naitler  (if  by  '-song"  wo  are  to  understand  a  Z///;;;/  /"  be 
riou/'),  inrisnuu'li  as  some  of  the  greatest  poets  have  failed 
in  this  p:irticul:ir.  Take  i\[ilton's  "  Comns,"  for  instance— 
that  exrpiisiio  poem,  which  teems  with  lofty  imagery  aiid 
is  ])erlVctly  g'orgeous  in  language — there  we  iind  in  the 
"Humr"  of  "The  Ladv"— 


"Ami  in  Oah  viiik't-cuiliro'iilcr'd  viil;', 
\,'li.  le  i1;l'  I'jvr-liini  iiigliting-iilo 
>:ii;hllv  tn  ',l:r;-  h.  i'  ^,lll  Hor/r  iiior.riU'tli  -.vrli." 


rUEFACE. 


o 


ii  written 
Ire,  t.rcin;,' 
illi;'  iMlllcr 
!0  YCX'rlli.-'t, 
)0U  YoWfls, 

.s  possibU', 
lit.    A^ain, 
lir,  v.-Ik^'.k'o 
;  vA  I'L'acl  bv 
is  adapt'Hl, 
ami   Koiiiul 
lo  oro.inary 
y  in  iiici  \\\ 
(",i[;lionious 
.(ler  u  soM.^' 
.vivnt  whic'li 
but  lie  lias 
■  tliiui  rcod- 
1(1  wlieu  v.(3 
Kow,  evfvy 
ringing,  but 

videut'G,  we 
J  such  easy 
//(/;;'/  /n  /i.'j 
havt;  failed 
r  iiistiiiice — 
ma^'ery  iuicl 
find  iu    the 


Anyvocfil  iuusiei;iii  will  feel  that '•  violet-oiiibrniileiM  v^^l"," 
find  "liei-  sad  \-a)v.<^  luounuilh  well,"  are  J'.t.l  suited  io  - ::  :  ■  : 
Tak(!  13yre»u,  tis  another  example.  lie  wan  u  pi'i^  ■• 
pi-et,  but  not  a  good  song-writer.  In  his  pueujs  wv  lii'si 
t^oiiie  raider  the  title  '•' Stanzas  for  Music; "  wisi-'U  r,:-.'  \\\\va' 
unlit  for  the  purpose.  Here,  f.jr  example,  arc!  two  xcr.-,;:-: 
freiii  a.niouif  live — 


"  Ton  Iivicf  fcr  our  passion,  too  loiij^  for  our  peace, 
Wcvi!  thos(!  liours  ~(_Mii  ilK'ir  joy  or  tlieir  biltcnu's:-;  l';';i,->'; 
W'v  rt'pciit— we  iibjvire  — we  will  lin'iik  from  dur  i'!i,ii;i - 
'\V.;  will  i.'.u't- -v.'e  will  My  to-   unite  it,  ;t.'^;iiii ! 

"  Oh  !  thine  )je  tlie  gluiliiess,  i'.ii'l  tiiiiie  lie  the  gu-iit ! 
Forgive  me,  adored  one  !— forsake,  if  tlioii  wilt ;  — 
I'.ut  the  lieiirt  wliicli  is  tliiiie  shall  expire  uinlflMsed, 
And  Miiii  shall  n.:t  breiik  it— whatever  thjiii  niay'.st.'' 

Here  we  have  feeling  and  passion,  but  not  a  good  song. 
There  is  little  Jl'iw  in  the  fir' '  of  these  verse?  (and  there 
must  be  flow  in  a  good  song),  laid  in  the  second  we  have — 

"Undebased 
■Whatever  thou  inr.y'-l." 

"Who  could  f^lii'j  such  words V  These  lijies  JJyr(;n  sent  to 
Moore  with  this  remark  :  "Thou  hast  a-k(!d  mo  lor  a  song, 
and  I  (inclose  you  an  experiment,  v>'hich  has  e(st  me,  some- 
thhig  more  than  trouble,  iind  is,  therefore,  1';sm  likely  to  be 
worth  your  taking  any  iu  the  proposed  settin,::-.  Xovv",  if 
it  be  so,  throw  it  into  the  tire  without  ^>/i/"fl--(\'' — Lord  llijrua 
((}  Mr.  Mvore,  May  10,  1814. 

This  song,  we  may  bo  pretty  sure,  Moore  nev(u-  did  set ; 
or,  if  he  did,  it  never  Vvaa  heard  of — tlie  best  prc-of  of  ita 
being  a  failure. 

A  question  naturally  arises  her(!,  why  Moiu'v;  s-hould  ask 


I 


6 


rUKlWCK. 


Byron  to  write  a  son^-.  Moore  was  justly  proud  of  liia 
lyric  fame— proud  almost  to  jealousy.  Did  he  ask  Byron 
to  write  for  the  pui^ose  of  raisin^-  ;i  dangerous  rival?— 
liliiy  w(!  not  rather  think  that  Moore  entertained  some 
opinion  iibont  song-writinj,'  similar  to  my  own,  that  a  s>'reat 
poet  may  fail  as  a  song- writer  ?  and  in  that  spirit  of  fun 
with  which  his  Irish  nature  was  so  deeply  imbued,  hitve 
had  a  sly  pleasure  in  tempting  Byron  to  write  a  song,  just 
to  show  his  "noble  friend"  that  it  was  not  quite  so  easy 
a  matter? 

Eveu  Shelley,  whose  ear  was  exquisitely  sensitive  to  sweet 
sounds,  and  whose  soul  overflowed  with  poetry,  is  not  suc- 
cessful in  what  he  calls  scvigs.     For  instance, 

"Hove  that  tliou  Invest, 
Spirit  of  (Icli.ulit ! 
The  fresh  earth  in  new  loaves  drest, 
And  the  starry  night ; 


I  love  snow,  ami  all  the  forms 

Of  the  radiant  forest! 
I  love  waves,  and  winds,  and  stonn.^, 

Everything  almost 
Whieh  is  Na-ture\s,  and  'nay  bo 
Uiitaintod  hy  man's  misery." 


Here  is  great  poetic  sensitiveness,  poetically  expressed,  but 
unfit  for  music.  "  The  fresh  earth  in  new  leaves  drest "  is 
(I  sweet  line,  and  gives  a  pleasant  image  to  the  mind,  but  I 
defy  any  one  to  sing  it.  Nearly  every  word  shuts  up  the 
mouth  instead  of  opening  it,  and  therefore  cannot  be 
vocalized;  and  "radiant  forest"  and  "everything  almost" 
are  also  inf(>licitous  for  music. 

I  have  purposely  (and  perhaps  hazardously)  put  forward 
Uiese  great  poets  as  exiunples  that,  with  all  their  greatness, 


PltL'FAVE. 


11(1  of  Ilia 
sk  Byron 
s  rival? — 
lied  some 
at  a  o-rcat 
rit  of  fun 
lied,  liitvo 
Kong.  just 
,e  HO  easy 

e  to  sweet 
s  not  suc- 


rcssed,  but 
!  tlrost "  is 
[lind,  but  I 
iits  up  the 
cannot  be 
i2f  almost" 

tut  forward 
'  greatness, 


they  were  not  good  song-writers.  Had  I  given  inferior 
examples,  the  motive  might  be  doubted ;  but  no  one  can  be 
suspected  of  att<  ^ipting  detraction  here.  I  am  only  mak- 
ing a  pica  to  hi:.  "■  that  song-writing  has  peculiar  difficulties 
which  have  bafded  great  men. 

If  any  should  say,  in  retort,  that  perhaps  song-writing  is 
an  inferior  sort  of  thing,  beneath  a  great  poet,  to  that  I 
say,  Nay.  Fletcher,  of  Saltoun,  indulges  in  the  extreme 
opinion  that  the  ballads  of  a  nation  are  more  potent  than 
its  laws,  and  certainly  he  had  good  right  to  know  the 
influence  of  a  popular  song.  But  such  songs  as  Fletcher 
speaks  of  survive  the  occasion  of  their  birth,  outlive  inter- 
vening generations,  and  are  interesting  to  us  merely  for 
their  poetic  worth,  independently  of  their  temporally  politi- 
cal value. 

It  is  no  small  thing  to  stir  a  nation's  heart ;  and  that 
the  song-writer  has  done.  It  is  no  small  thing  to  contri- 
bute to  the  charm  of  the  social  circle ;  and  that  the  song- 
writer has  done  through  all  time.  To  excite  or  to  soothe, 
to  sound  the  depths  of  feeling  or  scale  the  heights  of  fancy, 
each  and  all  of  these  are  the  privileges  of  the  song-writer. 
Some  have  done  them  all ;  but  to  do  any  of  them  is  no 
unworthy  achievement. 

As  it  is  not  the  highest  genius,  neither  is  it  the  highest 
scholarship  that  insures  successful  song-writing,  lioberfc 
Burns,  though  comparatively  unlettered,  was  supreme  as 
a  song-writer.  In  his  best  examples,  the  firmness  of  his 
rhythm,  and  the  musical  flow  of  his  verse  have  never  been 
surpassed  ;  and  his  happy  selection  of  open-voweled  words 
recommends  his  compositions  to  vocal  purposes.  The  sim- 
ple lines — 

"  Ye  banks  ami  braes  o'  bouny  Doon, 

How  can  vc  bloom  sac  fresh  and  fair?" 


8 


ruErAvt^. 


1 


oi^cn  llio  mouth  n,s  agrceiibly  wa  Italiiin.  Of  Ins  i\o\A\\  o? 
foelino-,  liis  exquisite  Kcusilulity,  r.iul  his  poetic  iiio  (which 
!)urnetl  the  more  Tigorously,  perhap;;,  fox-  not  being  ovit- 
rakcd  with  a  elassical  poker),  tlii.s  is  not  the  place  to  treat. 
I  only  8]ipnk,  at  p'lTsetit,  of  the  uk clianical  dilHeulties,  pecu- 
liar to  Ihe  soiig--\vriter,  over  ->v;:ie:!  ho  triuniplied. 

That  sparkling  poet  Avho  1;,  s  i)ut  recently  psiRsed  away 
from  among  us,  Thomas  Moore,  was  never  surpassed,  and 
.seldom  e(]ualed,  in  the  harjiioiiious  iK)W  of  liis  numbers. 
A  singer  himself,  he  understood  ;ul  tlie  requirements  of  a 
singer  ;  and  liis  songs,  I  think,  arc  matchless  in  this  respect. 
The  care  aiid  skill  witli  whicli  his  Acrsc  is  made  to  abound 
with  op(>u  vowels,  can  only  bo  fully  appreciated  by  those 
who  have  contended  v.ith  the  ditucailties  he  has  so  gracefully 
overcome. 

But  even  I^Eooro,  with  all  his  felicitous  versiiication, 
is  often  dependent  oji  the  rhynitli  of  the  air  he  writes  to 
i\)r  the  proper  accentuation  of  liis  son;.:s ;  and  when  such 
a  polished  versitier  as  IMoore  is  li.ilile  t(>  lie  falsely  read  v.hen 
the  ordinary  accent  is  given  to  the  ]'(:ading,  or,  if  I  miiy 
express  it  in  another  way,  when  measured  syllabically  rather 
than  rhythmically,  it  v. ill  Jiot  bo  wondered  at  tliat  many  of 
iny  songs  may  oii'end  in.  this  particular,  and  more  fieqn.ently 
need  the  aid  of  melody. 

As  a  loose  assertion  is  fairly  open  to  objection,  it  ii.ay  In,- 
as  well  to  give  pi'oof  of  Avhat  I  have  just  said  (f  ]\Ioi>re'H 
Bongs;  and  I  en  give  pi'oof,  even  to  excess,  in  the  following 
example,  where  the  music  is  vv)rn  Wv.xw  (\;;-.o)iti;d — wlier*' 
it  absolutely  incrcasr.H  the  powei-  of  the  lines  ; 

"  Tho  MiiiKtrol  T>oy  to  tliu  war  i.^  froiio. 
Tti  the  ranl;s  of  death  you'll  liml  liiin; 
III-;  fallier"s  «\v(ir;l  he  has  r);irile.l  on, 
Aii'l  hi-;  v/'M  ]:-M\)  sluntr  l.fl-.in.l  hii-a. 


I'UKFACK. 


9 


s  ilojtlL  of 
lire  (-wliich 
eiug  over- 
e  to  treat. 
Itics,  pecu- 

ssed  away 
lassed,  aiul 

iiuntbers. 
nents  of  a 
lis  respect, 
to  abound 
I  by  those 

gracefully 

rsilicaiioT), 
writes  to 
wliiii  KUcll 
read  v.licii 
,  if  I  jiiav 
ally  ml  her 
it  many  of 
frc'ijiicutly 

ii  r..\\\  1h; 
if  I^loore'H 
■  f^'llo-wing 
ial — wlieiT 


Lauil  of  son','!'  caiil  (ho  wnrrior  barJ, 

'  Tlio"  all  tlu!  '.vorl.l  l)etr,i_y.^  tiieu, 
(Jt,.e  .swunl,  at  liMst,  thy  ri.^-iit.-i  shall  o-narj, 
One  I'.uthi'iil  liai'i)  »liii!l  )HM'-e  tiiue  I ' '' 

Tiii;5  1:5  a  spirit-stirring  verso,  as  aa  elocutionist  might 
qwal'  it ;  but  how  much  more  grandly  i«  it  accented  when 
s'(o.\'7.  Let  i\)ur  lines  be  jnarked  with  "lonr/M"  and  "ahoiis' 
as  they  vrould  be  read. 

— '         'v-'  tK^      — '        s-^         . 

Tho  Minstrel  lioy  to  the  war  in  cniio, 
^-^  ^-^     —     ^     —       >*•      —     ^^ 

la  tlie  rank?!  ofdeatli  you'll  lirul  him  ; 

^^       "—        S«^  .  >^^       ^^  .      -*.•      "^ 

His  fatiicr's  sword  ho  lias  ginlod  on, 

>•>         >■•         .  >«'  —  -^x ^ 

■  And  his  wild  Ir.irp  slnng  hehind  him. 

How  much  nu)re  massive   is  the  vcr.'>e,  as  follows,  accen- 
tu[itod  by  the  music  : 


IrMi  A!r.—TliE  MOKEEX. 


-Pr 


'O 


±E3£ 


xizzii^-; 


V — 


The       Jlin  -  .-tiid     T?oy     to      llie       w;ii-      i.s       gone,     In      tlio 


|^^=?EEi3^ia^3^^ 


-T-^-^-=^=q- 


-=3: 


:n5: 


JV— N- 


ranks  of      dcnth  yun'U     lind  hi:!::   His       fa  -  llicr'.s  sword  he    haj 


-i/^ 


-II 9  . 


:q^: 


-15^ 


li]] 


gird  -  od        on,     Ami    liis    wiid     harp    slini^  bo    -     Jiiud         liiin. 


Observe  the  remarkable  succession  of  long  .sounds,  and 
the  consequent  grandeur  of  cflect  given  to  tho  poem  by  this 
noble  air.''' 


*  Tlio  first,  portion   only  of  this  air  is  {riven  for  example ;  the  second  i.i 
equally  fine,  and  produces  the  same  cunohling  cllect  upon  the  verso BeeStli 


10 


VHKhWrR. 


But  jis  these  lines  will  suit  th(i  air  of  Littlk  Bo-Pkkp 
quite  as  well,  lot  us  k)ok  at  thoin  in  that  pitiable  pobitioa, 
as  au  example  of  what  musical  measure  can  do. 


ipr- 


ita^E 


A iV.-LITTLE  IJO  PEEP. 

— ( 1 ->  — —  ~ 


ZZ-S- 


:A-i 


I 


'i'ho        3Ii!i  •  siiL'l     l!(iy      to        tlie       whv       i.s 


(IIIO,       111         tllC 


— «  - 


'■ji-h—  m0-'m  -  3^— ^'  b"' '-^~it -F-1 ?s S— --+ 

•^         _  _*  _  :*■    __ 

Viiiiks  ot'    iloiitli  you'll  lind    liiiii ;       IIi.s     f;i  -  t!ii;i's   suord    lie        Ikis 


:|E.:'z:-r=zl 


i^.- 


;E?iii 


<iii-(l  -  fil      on,    And   hi.i        uild     liarp  slung    be 


lind 


hiir 


Here  the  verse  is  chopped  up  into  "  t^hoi't.-i." 

I  think  these  examples  sufficiently  prove  how  great  an 
influence  mitsic  can  exercise  over  verse. 

Something  more,  however,  uian  the  true  accent  is  gained 
by  the  addition  of  the  music  to  which  tlie  poet  has  writ- 
ten ;  there  is  much  in  the  influence  of  the  music  itself, 
the  mirth-stirring  measure,  or  the  "  linked  sweetness  long 
drawn  out,"  as  either  may  suit  the  sentiment  of  the  song  : 
and  when  these  are  perfectly  in  accord,  how  thrilling  is  the 
effect.  Thus,  songs  lose  much  by  l)eii)g  dissevered  from 
their  fascinating  ally,  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  must  bo 
acknowledged  the  music  loses  more.  AVhy  is  many  an 
air  dear  to  us?  Because  it  recalls  some  charming  words 
to  which  it  has  been  wedded — 

"  Married  to  immortal  verse," 

as  Milton  says.     And  indeed  we  have   abundant  evidence 
of  this  truth  in  Moore's  Irish  Melodies.     Some  of  thgse  air.s 


:  Bo-Pkkp 

pouitioa, 


-iH 


Nr 


111  tllU 


111!  Iia:4 


iiii 


great  an 


I'JiKFA'.K. 


11 


were  only  known  within  a  limited  circle  of  mnsicul  ania- 
teurs,  or  in  remote  districts  of  Ireland;  but  Moore's  words 
made  tliem  known  to  all  the  world.*  And  h\-  whiit  names 
are  they  known?  Not  by  the  original  ouch  they  Ijiiro 
(though  these  names  were  given  in  the  musical  edition  of 
the  Melodies)  ;  they  are  known,  without  exception,  by  the 
titles  which  he  gave  the  songs  he  adapted  to  them.  This 
places  poetry  in  a  higher  rank  than  music  ;  but  still,  poe- 
try must  ever  feel  indebted  for  .much,  in  the  alliance  of 
her  charming  sister. 

But  though  poetry  stands  in  a  higher  rank  than  music, 
I  do  not  think  that  a  successful  song  need  be  of  the  highest 
class  of  poetry.  Indeed  I  have  shown,  as  presumptive 
evidence  of  this,  that  the  highest  poets  have  not  produced 
the  best  songs. 

Shakespeare  says — 

■'  One  toucb  of  nature  initkcH  the  wliolo  world  kin;" 


t  is  gained 
has  writ- 
isic  itself, 
tiiess  long 
the  song  : 
ing  is  the 
3red  from 
:  nnist  bo 
many  an 
ing  words 


:,  evidence 
those  airq 


and  it  is  this  kindred  influence  that  a  song  should  possess, 
I  think,  beyond  every  other  quality.  To  awaken  sympathy 
by  the  simplest  words,  wih  go  farther  in  a  song  than  pomp 
of  language  and  elaborate  polish.  But  simplicity  should 
never  descend  into  baldness,  or  the  stringing  of  nonsensical 
rhymes  together.  A  song  should  /lave  a  lhi>uf/]tf  in  if,  and 
that  thought  gracefully  expressed,  at  least  ;  and  if  the  torie. 
of  expression  touch  the  head  or  the  heart  of  the  listener — ■ 
appeal  either  to  his  fancy  or  his  feeling — it  has  in  it,  I 
believe,  the  germ  of  success.     If  you  preach  too  much,  or 

*  HiTO  is  a.  remark  b}' Moore  too  applicable  to  tlic  subject  to  be  niiiitti-fl  — 
"The  'Sovereign  of  the  willing  soul"  (as  (h-ay  calls  um^'w)  always  loses  b^ 
being  made  exclnsivo  Sovereign,— a iv.l  tb.e.  ilivlsion  of  lior  empire  with  ]"w'tr« 
and  wit,  as  in  the  instance  of  'The  Duenna,'  doubles  her  real  power."— .Ve»f 
oirs  of  SJicridaii,  h>j  Tlimnns  Moure,    i^vo  IjL,  Vol.  I.,  p.  lO'J. 


12 


ri:i:r.\(h 


pliiioHoplii/Co  too  mudi,  fn'  ii  paftHlci),  like  llio  queen  in  ilio 
Ijliiy  in  liiunlft-,  "tlotli  pvoic.'-t  too  Dn:-'!),"'  tiio  clijiiici  s  are 
tli!.'  i-o)i_M'  is  over  (lone.  Tiie  i'celin;^.-!  vuu  wan!  to  excite 
in  a  non:.^'  slioulil  he  ralher  xti(ji/r.-;'i-((  tiian  ontrntatiouslv 
pavie.lcd,  iiiul  iji  proportion  as  ll.i:^  is  bldlirully  done,  llio 
tioii^-,  I  liclii  ve,  i)vove.s  sneeessful.  01'  course  there  are  ex- 
cei^tions  to  this  ;  l)ut  my  exporienco  8n})porls  nie  in  ilie 
beJief  that  my  notions  on  this  «nl)ject  are  not  far  \vron<:'. 

I  fear,  however,  I  ]iave  overstepped  the  proper  boniuls  of 
a  preface,  and  ahno,st  wandcired  into  an  essay  ;  but  as  1 
felt  the  strong  necessity  of  siiying  something  to  indnee  a 
considerate  forbearance  as  to  the  poetic  lialf-of  my  songs, 
I  ci.uld  not  say  less,  having  once  touched  upon  the  subject. 
The  motive  that  urged  me  has  at  least  one  grace  to  recom- 
mend it — tlie  grace  of  difti'lence. 

Tlie  Talcs  and  Miscellaneous  Poems  having  hitherto 
appeared  but  in  a  scattered  form  of  publication,  are  now 
collected,  for  the  first  time,  in  this  volume. 


SAMUEL  LOVEPu 


0)1  in  the 
liKHS   sirt-' 

it.'itiuusly 


1(!     in      llKi 


'Ullg'. 

loiuuls  of 

but    f!S    I 

induce  a 
ny  songs, 
3  subject.. 
^o  recoiu- 

Lithertc 
are  no\v 

OVEIX. 


CONTENTS. 


AUK 

A  l!hu4i :i!;8 

Ab.iciuo 178 

A  ( ■iuistmas  OiK;  to  Iho  Goose U-J 

A   (oiitL'Uti'.l   rrnpriutur 2'2'^ 

A  lV,iti..ii  li-ht U'J 

A  J'ulal  l.nioii <.)l 

A  JlcaUli  to  (laribal.U 112 

A  Lfiit  tliut  rcuijiid.s  of  tlico oo7 

.\;i  llo!n'.-:t  lluait  to  Ciuiilc  us lo'.t 

A  .-iuylo  Wruath  outvviuc 20fi 

A;-k  mo  nut  wluit  I  :im  thiniiing- ;]44 

A  Solt  I'lixret.— Sony  of  the  Lively  Widow l!1S 

.V  Vv'i-.li  iukI  a  Vviiniing ^'-V'j 

".tanicy  O'  Ilea liJJ 

Ik-auty  and  Tune oSi 

IJ-'twoen  ni'^Sleevc!  and  Mc loij 

iKiuny  ikdie 12o-j 

L'>i-ing'  me  that  Aiieirnt  ISowl ;]].) 

(':i;i' t  yu;i  L\ iioss , •j.j'j 

fan  you  over  Forget  ? I'jfj 

(,'onic  hiick  to  mo 1 70 

(.'njii  Is  lir.-t  Dip i;»l 

('u|.id's  Wing; ;:.3.', 

Dearest,  tell  mo  v, iiy 123') 

i  >erniot  0'  Dowd 401 

Divided  D(,vf 2(Ui 

Dr.Miping  a  Line IJ.) 

:'..;■'  -.v.'i, rd,  i  io  !  ".1' 

ilveU  en lljij 

i'ii^-au-BoaUieli Ijy 


I 


xlv 


(•ii\Ti:XTS. 


Falcon  Li'i;^'li 

jNitlu-rhaul  iiiul  M<)tlaT-'J'i'ii;;iH' •  •  •  • 

Kutlior  Molloy  ;  <>r,  the  Conli-rtKioii 

FiiHur  Uoiuli 

rill  lii„'li  tlu!  ('up  '"'  triniiiiih.     A  I'cstal  lAiic 

ri,-iluniuin..«»»« 

FUnver  vt  Xiitclu'/. 

Foi-f^lvo.  liut  (1( 111' t  F<irij;('t 

Fmm  Miuy  I'ur  away 

(Jeiitlo  Liuly,  hoav  luy  vow 

(live  nic  my  Arrows  and  givo  iiio  my  Bow 

(joiitUilitr,  row  ! 

Giriu  aii>l  (I ray  tail  lU'ver  agree 

Clrief  is  miJie 

Hidden  Fire 

Hop(3  retururt  again 

llow  oft  have  we  wander' d 

How  sweet  'tis  to  return 

How  to  ask  and  have 

I  am  a  siinj/le  (ioiidolier 

I  can  ne'er  Forget  thee 

1  know  tltat  the  Suiuiner  is  eoiue 

I  leave  yon  to  guess 

I'll  never  Forgo*  iliut,  Ma'am ! 

I'm  a  ranting,  roving  I'.Uide.— The  Guide's  «ong.. 

I'm  not  myself  at  all 

Impromptu 

I  tliiuk  of  thee 

I I  may  he  yet 

I  value  this  Cup 

I  will  not  say  I'd  give  tlie  World 

Jack  and  the  IScarskin.— A  Baltic  Stave 


Jessie 

Katlileon  and  tlio  Swallow* 
Kitty  Creagh 


Kitty  Macluro. 


..tiiy  iuaci 
Liuly  niiiK! 
Ijantv  licai 


PAOI 


J.SJi 

;',i 
i^'» 
u;.-) 
l-js 
'.in-j. 
2U 
;;;'.! 
11". 

I'.O 

.  J>\\ 

.  h>-i 

.  lit'. 

.  ;vj.'> 

.  17:5 

.  no.) 

.  :;;!:; 

.  l-l'.> 

.  -iST 

.  201 

.  l"d 
.  I-'.:; 

.  11;'. 

.  28.') 
. .  10:i 
,  .    ISli 

. .  2or. 

..  IGO 

.  .  2:t4 


224 

870 
181 
403 
227 


ro\Ti:.\Ts. 


w 


PAIifl 

N) 

,  is;, 

.  :;i 

.  l!-') 

.  11).') 

.  rjs 

.241 

.  ;;:u 
.  11') 

.  I'.o 


..)(i 

IKi 

;;'j') 

I,o  i 

ir.) 

l.'.l 
1.-,:! 
11:5 

•JS-') 

k;:', 

18() 
2')t) 
100 
,  2!t4 
,  2-il 
.  37". » 
.  181 
.  403 
,  227 


I'AOK 

Umy  O'O.alY. 157 

l.iiKs  vn  tho  ik'iith  of  Sir  N.  Talfoid 117 

Liut'H  ou  a  (lul)ltliig  In  Diihlin UU 

LisUii 2H4 

Liv-;  in  my  lUait  iuul  pay  iiu  licnt 201 

Lost,  Loiit ! 2;l( 

Love  anil  Death 100 

Liive  and  limine  ami  Native  Land o'.*7 

Ijovc  and  IJtiuor. — A  Ureok  Allegory 1H7 

Love  knows  no  letuvnlng 213 

Jiove  me  I <•-<) 

aMatiudiy'H  Ciravo I'"">1 

Mairli : -l^ 

.Mary  Ma  Cliree "!'- 

Mary  of  'J'ipperary H>B 

JIary  O'Mara -'^Jt 

:\Ieloily 1-1- 

Meniory  and  Hope -71 

lilolly  ?.awn 40-j 

I^lolly  Carew :i05 

Morning,  Sweet  Jloruin;? olo 

MotluT,  he's  Koini;-  away iJ7") 

ISIy  dark-haird  Uirl -T-4 

Jly  pentle  Lute ^511 

My  (Jondoletta -^^ 

My  Mountain  Home ^-1 

Uy  Mcill'er  dear ^'--^ 

My  native  Town *^^^ 

My  own  Old  JIan 1^" 

Native  Music -JO 

Ne.l  of  the  Hill -80 

Never  Despair ^^'1 

Nevermore IBO 

No  Followers ^" 

Norah's  Ijiment 310 

Nymph  of  Niagara , 1-7 

Oeular  Demonstration 20;i 

U'er  the  Waters  softly  stealing 201 


(■'.\  ji::.Ts. 


,,'r  l.:i.lv.  . 


,  ■  1  !   >;iy  y«'U  I      I  ..... 

()!,  :  J,.  ,  ■-  liic  ••  W'liV  .'" 

Oil!   u:.        i   ,       '    l.iAfl-.^ 

(;;i.  ,-lir  is  ii  hii^lit-cyi'il  'Jji>-!'^ 

(I'll  !  i!i,a  (inldcii  ^tiiiiiil 

oil  !  walih  yell  w<  II  liy  l)ayiiL;lit 

dill  wliiil  cue  1  r.>i  AiKT.-jit  l/)nlly  Hull. 

(.)iu<:  iiintn  a  liini' 

Our  ()s\ii  Wliit"  dirt' 

r.i.l.ly  P.liilvr-s  I'.hu 

r.iil.ly  OMUiitlL.T 

I'ad.lv's  r.istoi-.il  Uti:4.si..ly 


i'rn!i!;::n.' 

Ilovy  U'Mi'iv  ;  <>'.■,  K  ""l  Omms 

:;  .  ,   :,fllussC;w>tU:;  a  iv!iii:iis.viic-Mit  Kili;ini^'y 
U"'>v,  l'l>lirvin:ui.  row 


J^.iy  uiit  my  ht'art  is  r.>l<l 

Sici-tts  were  imt  iiiciuil  i'"i'  U'li 


He 


Higli  ii;.t-I/ive  not  — Do.i'rl  iiiit, 

{•'.'..tyiuix  till!  I'ecr 

Slci'i)  my  i;.il'>'.  s!t >'P 

t^k'op,  my  Love , 

Suit  o!i  tl)C  cur 

Suhliev,  conm  <'Vor  tho  Sim 

Swim'tliiiiiX  Nvnrlli  haviiiv; 

yMhiV  (if  the  Jt:-,!ia,u  Trfuliatlcniv 

S.'.ii;j:  <>i'  tiic  Sinini>!i  Tci-.^ant 

Hpii'.L'  (if  tlic  I'uivin 

St.  Kevin  :  a  Lt'tnnd  <.!'  (iii-i(lal(ni,u;ii 

Ijwrvt  llni)  I'f  tlu'  Ih'.vri  that  are  f  n^-' 

Kwcct  ?.i(iii«)iy 


2;'.j 

171 

l:.7 
-■>.• 
•J'.J 
170 
.   ■.17 

.  nil 

.  1117 

.  ;vA 
.  lis 


1(»8 


.  VA 


;'.'.G 
l;!8 

olij 
140 
121) 

l!-V.) 
;-,i2 
r,i.)0 

218 

'.it 

.  ;;is 


...  1-.0 

..    2ai 


VOMKNT8. 


171 


"i.i 


lf,l 
.  :•.••■  I 
,  l:i7 

.  ■.'.:<[ 

.  lis 

.  1:1:: 

.  ;;•')'.) 

.  loa 

.  ,;si 

.    114 

.  t  "  ■» 

.  ;ili 

.  i;';8 

,  .     ol'j 

,.    liO 

.  12:) 

. .  :h2 

. .  r,0() 

. .  218 

..  :;is 

..    -10 

11  —  ..t 

.  .    -J  I  J 


Tuft-tiiblo  TilctltM ;;i,S 

'JVll-tiilfrt ]-■; 

That  rogue,  Kiley j  is 

'i'lii!  Aliiliiiinii I  jj 

'i'lio  An^'L'l'    WhiHper j  ;■, 

Tlio  Aiigcr.s  Whig ...                    (II 

'J'liu  Anil) 

I'lic  Uivrd'H  Fttiowt'U.    To 1 

'J'ho  lll'J,'!,'!!!' ,  I 

Tin;  r.ii til  of  Saint  I'iitiirU 

Tho  Ul.irksiiiitli i) 

The  Bliinicy l:7S 

'i'lu'  liuwlil  Snjcr  D'ly ;j.V' 

'.i'iiu  llriilal  of  (jiilti'im 1  j 

The  l?ri(lno  of  Slglia -it 

'J'iii'  (.'nil  ill  Vain •j()7 

Tlio  ( 'aptivo  Ivovcr ] i,s 

Tlu*  Cliaiii  of  tioM 110 

'J'lie  t'liaiuck'on li:.'> 

Tliu  riiarm 270 

The  CliiUl  and  the  Autumn  Leaf 1 

The  Child  and  tjie  UoKsanuT -2 

The  Convent  Ikllo :;    ; 

The  Crooked  Stick ; 

'J'he  deep-sea  Shell is 

llie  Dew-Diop. — A  metrical  Fant;usy T)  1 

The  Dove  Song ;V)8 

The  Dreamer ;V,h; 

The  Enchantress 172 

The  F;ur  Gwcndalme 21'.l 

The  Fairy  Boy -70 

TiiL'  Fairy  Isle 1;.'),; 

The  Fairy  Tempter 2.S7 

Tlic  Falling  Star 27'J 

The  Fisherman : 

The  FiidieniMn's  Danghtc-r Vjj 

Tiiti  Flag  is  half-mast  liigli.-— A  n.illad  of  tlio  Walmar  Watch.. . .  1  i  i 

The  Flooded  Hut  of  the  Mississippi 124 


xvm 


CuyTKNT<. 


FAGB 

'J'lio  Flower  of  Niglit -10 

The  Flying  Cloml l-^'* 

The  Futnit:iiii  lunl  the  Flower -8^ 

The  Fmir-lA'iivwl  hhiumdck -'-»'•' 

'll.c  Ciirl  I  kit  hihinil  iiv/ l'<^ 

'ihe  Giiiud  Shin --'J 

'I'he  hapi.iost  time  is  now '^*^'' 

The  hapin-  hour  to  meet.— Duet 1''0 

The  ILiunteil  ISprln:-'- 

The  hiuir  belore  Day 

The  hum-  1  pass  with  thee -'''* 

The  Indian  Sumni  r ^-^ 

•ihe  Irish  .Mule-Driver -"^ 

ig;) 

;ji!;s 

'2;n\ 

'28S 


-I  J 
.1.)  ) 


'i'he  .!a\uiti:i,^  Car 

The  LaJy's  Hai-1 

The  I^uidof  Dreams.. 
The  Land  of  the  West 


The  Lr.ssie  of  Lueknow  ;  or,  the  ribitich  of  .^Lugre,';or. 

The  Last  Woman 

The  Letter 

The  Lovely  North  Star 

'J'he  Low-ku.k' d Car 

'llie  Maiden  Masijue 

'Jhe  Maid  of  .Mahihar 

The  .May-Dew. 


228 

212 

27;i 

2o() 

uGi 

iV] 

IJO 

202 

The  Meeting  of  Foes  and  the  Meeting  of  Friends ;!27 

The  Minstrel  to  his  Lady  Love i ■>'•> 

The  Mt)rn!ng  Dream '"'' 

The  Mountain  Dew 

The  New  Moon 

The  Pearl  Diver 

The  IVarl  is  under  the  Wave 

The  rilgrim  Ihirpir 

The  I'oefs  IIoui'- 

The  I'oor  lUind  Hoy 

The  (Jnaker"s  J[eetin2:. .  ■ 

There  is  a  (.Jcntle  llleam 

lliere's  a  Charm  in  tlif  I'ast 


2 '.8 
IDi 
220 

:v-',o 

2;  12 

211 
211 


CONTENTS. 


Xi.N 


PAGH 

210 
13-> 

283 
2G'.) 
173 
22o 

;!()■'. 

T.ii) 
27!: 

21  ;o 

121 
1:0! 
1G.» 

;jss 
2'.(;'. 

2SS 
,   228 

,   212 

.>— ■> 
.   -/  •> 

2'j() 

,    I.jO 

.   2(52 

.  ;i27 

.  .1(1') 

.  ;]2ij 

2  iS 

.  Ill 

.    220 

.    u.; 

2:'2 
.  211 
.  :m:; 
.   211 


FA(iR 

Tlic  Tiin;:  aii'l  tlio  Wiiuling-Shcet 20;! 

Vim  Vf>:id  of  Lii'c  ;  t)i'.  .song  dl'  the  Irish  post-buy 'cVXl 

i  ill.'  li'^^u  aiiil  the  Vow 2'")7 

.  iir  Itisc.  tlio  Zi!))hyr,  iuiJ  the  I)e^vdl■ol) 17* 

i  I.L'  Koyiil  Drciuu. .  .  .  » ;.t)fi 

i'hc  Sentinel  of  the  Ahna 148 

'llie  Shout  of  Ned  of  the  Hill ;M0 

■i  he  Silent  Farewell 281 

The  Hh-en  l>y  the  Sea I!l5 

The  Slave  Tnuie 2',)8 

The  Snow 3;!8 

The  Soldier 08!) 

The  Star  and  the  Surge 12(i 

The  Star  ^A  the  Desert o72 

'Jhe  Sunsliiue  in  You 350 

T'Jie  Suntihino  of  the  Heart 402 

'J'he  Thrw  Loves 2:!;] 

The  TVysting  Tree 264 

'J'he  two  r.irds 358 

The  two  Castles 200 

The  Venetian  I/)ve  Chase 383 

The  Volee  witliin 309 

The  War  Ship  of  Peace 120 

The  Wedding  of  the  Adriatic 333 

'J'he  "  Whistlin'  Thief." 1','2 

The  Wind  and  the  Weathercock 371 

There  is  a  gentle  gleam 343 

There's  a  charju  in  the  past 21 1 

Tlicre's  no  such  Girl  as  mine 3tj8 

They  say  my  Songs  are  all  tiie  same 30!) 

Thou  fiiir,  but  J'aitliless  One 1!)4 

Tliou  wilt  not  frown  on  me 232 

'Tis  better  not  to  know 132 

'Tis  sweet  to  remember 331 

'Tis  'Time  to  Fly 304 

T.>  Mary. . . .'. 101 

True  love  can  ne'er  forget 377 

'Twas  lovhig  thee  too  well 337 


S'l 


VON  TEN 'J  S. 

vs'-f. 

"I'wiis  otic,  f  was  two,  'twas  tliv'.i' ~  ^  ^ 

'Twiis  tho  <lay  of  the  Ftiint 

Viukr  the  Rose "  ^  1 

Yictovia  tlie  Qiiocix _ 

■\Ve  shall  have  um-  :\I(i(iu!i,^ht  yet -  ' 

■\Vi.at  a  l)ani;ei-(uis  Woman  am  I ' 

AV'aat  will  you  <lo,  Love  ? 

When  and  where ~ _'__ 

V.'hen  lii-st  I  over  the  uiountaiii  tixxl '■' 

When  ,^■entle  ?ilusie ' '_ 

When  over  the  Waters  the  Moonheams  are  hri-ht -  ' 

When  the  Sun  sink^;  to  rest 

Where  to  go  to 

,  ^'i'' 

■\Vliisiier  low ! 

'  ,  ;;7" 

"Who  are  you  ? 

Willow  Maehrec ''  '' 

1  ....  .  .    ••'•!^ 

"VVould  von  know  who  lias  my  \o\\ 

,  'si 

Written  in  the  »)n(l 

Wl 

\  earuui^Ji; ,,^,,. 

....     -oi> 

Yes  and  No _ 

Yield  not,  thou  sad  one,  to  sighs 

Y'ou  know  not  how  I  love  you 


IMITA'J-IOXS  OF  HOME  rolTI.Ail  AlITHOKS. 

A  few  W\.rds  on  Poet:^  in  -enere.l,  and  one  in  particular i'l^ 

,     ^  llIO 

ASpuit  Lay 

A  Voice  from  the  Far  We'st "j   ^ 

liav  of  the  rapt  Spirit '■■■." 

Letter,  with  an  Kuelnsur.,  supposed  to  he  an  early  aud  uul;u-      ^^ 

ishcd  Work  of  llohert  P.urns '^^|'J 

Ode  hy  an  Amateur,  an  ardent  admirer  of  Milton i--'^ 

a'he  Hard  of  Ayr ^^^^ 

Tlic  Pcnnv-a-lincr's  Hope 


I 


;0 

'   i   ! 


POETICAL    WOllKS 


ov 


SAMUEL    LOVER. 


,  --I 
,  .  ;'<t;i 

, .     '.12 
..    102 

. .  'im 

..   IT'.l 


THE   FISHEEMxVN. 


....  42-> 

....  120 

....  410 

....  4-i;i 

ii'.lin- 

4;!'i 

12'.) 

-to;) 

441 


The  Fishcrmuii  who  is  the  hero  of  thb  foUov.-ing  tale  l.s  not  merely  a  creature  ot 
tiiiii;.'li!:itioii,  for  flu'  self  denyiiii,'  spirit  wliicli  forms  tlio  stiplo  of  th  ■  story  is,  I  ;un 
hiippy  to  Hay,  in  hcc. nilaiice  '.vitii  fin't  ;  and  Ihe,  hist  niii;.;n:ii:iiunn-  ii.'lii 'Vi-ni^iit  of  tliu 
poor  i":sherm.-u)  i.s  -litor-illy  true.  Mii^jnuninioiis  may  sot-iu  an  infl:iti;(l  word  to  em- 
pl.iy  in  conn.. (■: ion  \\i!h  so  huniWe  a  snhjcot,  bu'-  it  i.s  beliovea  that  the  reader,  on 
aniviiig  at  Viw  eud  of  tho  story,  will  not  think  the  epithet  unwarrantable. 


'T\v.\..s  down  by  tlio  sliorc  of  the  steep  coast  of  Kerry 
Dwelt  ft  young  Irish  Fislierman — mournful,  (u-  merry, 
As  the  fast-chang-ing-  liow  of  his  feelings  might  be  ; 
Just  as  tempests  of  Avintov  wUl  clra-keu  tlie  se;i, 
Or  the  breeze  and  the  sunshine  of  summer  -vill  chase 
In  ripples  and  brightness  along  its  fair  face. 

\iid  what  made  tho  darkness  of  young  Donoghne? 
'Twiis  the  sense  of  a  sorrow-stetpcd  }).  .vcrty  grew, 
Like  the  dripping  sea-weed  by  the  st.)rm-l)eateu  slioro, 
-iud  clung  fast  to  the  heart  sorrow's  tide  had  run  o'ei', 
And  v.hat  made  h<s  brightness  ?     A  lovely  young  girl— 
Tvlore  precious  to  him  than  the  ocean-deep  pearl — 
And  if  diving  the  sea  could  have  made  the  boy  win  it, 
Wci-e  it  fU'iy  miles  deep,  lie'd  have  surely  been  in  it. 


22 


I'oKTicM.  \\<iin<<  <'!■'  s.wirr.L  1.11  vi:n. 


But  parents  are  thoughtful  as  lovers  arc  blind, 

And  tho'  Dennot  and  Peggy  were  both  of  a  mind, 

The  father  and  mother,  on  either  side,  thought 

That  over-young  weddings  v.ith  sorrow  were  fraught 

To  those  who  were  fast  bound  in  poverty's  fetter  ; 

So  the  mother  would  only  consent  ho  shoiild  get  her 

When  "times  were  more  promising."     Oh !  where's  tho  lover 

Broke  promise  so  often  as  Time  hath  done,  over  ? 

And  poor  Dermot,  as  some  "  time  of  promise  "  drew  nigher. 

Found  "Owld  Father  Time"  was  a  "mighty  big  har." 

Young  Donoghue's  friends  used  to  rally  him  often, 
"Why  to  marriage  he  could  not  his  sweet  Peggy  soften  ; 
They  said,  "  :\[arry  at  once,  and  take  chance,  like  the  rest."  * 
But  young  Donoghue,  while  a  sigh  swell'd  his  breast, 

*Thc  iinrrovidcncc  of  the  Irish  in  tlioir  c;ivly  iiuirriagos  has  been  often  miiao 
the  subject  of  iiulisenmiiiale  CMisure  by  writers  wh'.  arc  ...ily  too  willin-  to 
m\  funlt  with  poor  Pat,  and  eitlier  overlook  or  will  not  ^ee  any  eountervail- 
ing  arj;unient  in  his  favor.     That  improvident  marriages  often  lead  to  distress 
cannot  be  denied,  but  let  it  be  remembered,  i^t  the  same  tie.ie,  tli.i!  they  pre- 
vent what  is  worse   than  distress-crime.      Parliamentary  inquiry  has  pruvd 
that  crime  of  the  particular  character  to  which  allusion  is  here  ma,lr,  ,s  more 
rare  in  Ireland  tliau  in  anv  other  part  of  the  kingdom-perhaps,  it  n.ay  be  said, 
than  in  any  other  part  -d  tlie  world  ;  and  while  using  the  general  t.a-m  "  cniue, 
it  must  be  remembered  that  there  are  many  branches  of  it- the  branches  much 
worse  bvthe  bv,  than  the  parent  stem;   for  the  lirst  crinu'  is  consistent,  at 
least,  with  humanitv,  though  it  is  humanity  under  the  penalty  of  lie.  1-  all.  while 
the   after  crimes  arc  abhorrent  to  our  nature.    The  daily  P..lice  Itepnrts  „f 
Kn.'land  give   sucli  melancholy  evidence   of  a  criminal  state   of   society  o.i 
this  point,  that,  in  comparison,  the  improvident  marriages  of  hndand  may  be 
looked  upon  as  beneficial  rather  than  censurable.     A  quotation  from  the  levia- 
than journal  of  London  will  form  an  appropriate  conclushm  to  this  note,  and 
oiler  a  strong  argument  in  its  support     In  an  article  touching  .me  of  our  statis- 
tical  tables  (I  think  a  report  of  tlie  liegi^trar-Ceneval),  this  passage  occurs  :- 
"  There  cannot  be  a  worse  indication  of  a  people's  social  slate  tiiau  the  decay 
or  nn-leet  of  the  marriage  institution.    Tlie  home  and  the  family  are  at  the 
bottom  of  all  national  virtues,  and  if  these  foundations  of  good  e.li/.cn>liii)  ur.i 
impaired,  the  whole  superstructure  is  in  danger."'- TAe  Time.-,  September  2S. 
1859. 


}'<'i:Tti\i.  wuuKs  nr  sAMrr.i.  /.oyi.i:. 

■\\'ould  laugh  oil"  their  taunts,  autl  say,  "  Better  to  Avait, 
Than  'marry  in  haste,  and  rej)ent '  v>hen  too  late." 

"i'was  thus  that  he  sjMAr,  but  the  fhoughts  were  nioi'e  deeiD 
That  kejit  him  awake  when  the  world  was  aslee^j ; 
He  thought  of  the  joys  that  M-ould  bless  him,  if  she 
A\'er(^  the  wife  of  his  bosom — his  niMa  ma  chrcc  ;* 
liut,  suddenly,  conscience  would  sternly  reprove, 
And  balance  the  scale  between  passion  and  love, 
"By  wcddin'  his  darlin'  what  would  he  bo  doin' 
But  playing  the  guide  wherti  the  road  led  to  ruin  ?  " 
And  then  by  his  manly  resolve  he  would  profit, 
Aiul,  closing  his  eyes,  say— "I  must  not  think  of  it." 

But  fancy  would  trouble  his  feverish  rest, 

For  in  dreams  the  sweet  vision  still  haunted  his  brea.st ; 

He  saAV  his  belov'd  one,  bewitching,  as  when, 

Fresh,  fair,  round,  and  lovely,  she  tripp'd  down  the  glen, 

Her  blush  like  the  morn,  and  her  hair  dark  as  night, 

Her  brow's  playful  shadow  o'er  eyes  gleaming  bright,     « 

Her  lip  like  the  rose,  and  her  neck  like  the  lily. 

Her  tongue's  ready  taunt  making  suitors  look  silly 

All  suitors  but  one— and  to  him  the  sweet  tongue 
"With  accents  of  tenderness  ever  was  strunn- 
And  the  eye  and  the  brow  forgot  coquetry's  art 
And  were  open'd— to  let  him  look  into  her  heart. 

Oh,  dream  too  delicious !— he'd  start  and  awake. 
And  again  summon  courage  tlio  dream  to  forsake— 


•S.i 


^^  *  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  more  toiicliing  fonii  of  ('ndeinnoiit  tlmii  Ibis. 
"  VL'in  of  my  hc-an."  Tin;  true  hipeliiiig  in  the  Celtic;  is  duiisle  mo  chrdidhe'; 
but  tlie  vulgar  ^polling  may  bo  coasidored  pardoiuihle,  if  rot  i)roferable  in 
famili.T  usage.  ' 


voKruM,  wiiuKs  or  s.\Mri.i.  i.DVr.a. 


Firsf,  liis  firms  open'd  wide  to  clasp  beauties  of  nil", 
And  ihen  chasteird  tliou^-lit  clasp'd  his  liauds  iu  dco); 
And  he  vow'd  that  he  never  M'onld  darkoti  tlie  ])rii\v' 
That  ylow'd  with  the  light  of  mirth's  witcheiy  now. 


i'-^j   i", 


And  Peggy  Icnew  this — and  she  lov'd  him  the  more  ; 
And  oft,  when  poor  Dermot  was  stvetch'd  on  the  siu)ro 
And  lost  in  sad  thought — pretty  Peggy,  perchanee, 
Half  pleas'd  and  half  pitying,  might  furtively  gl:i?ice 
From  the  cliif  overhead — and  lior  sensitive  heart 
Could  divine  what  his  felt — and,  with  love's  tender  art, 
She  would  gather  the  llovvers  from  the  dark  cliff,  aud  pass 
Itound  some  pebble  a  primitive  tie  of  wild  grass, 
And,  attaching  her  nosegay,  would  fling  it  from  high, 
And  the  flow'rs  fell  on  Dermot,  as  though  from  the  sky — 
From  the  sky?  say  from  Heaven  ;  for  the  dew  nc'ca*  did  drop 
From  the  fountain  on  high  on  the  summer-scorch'd  croj^. 
More  assuaging  its  fervor,  refreshing  its  might, 
Than  those    fiow'rs    dropp'd  on  him   froiu   that   Heaven- 
crown'd  height ! 

Then  would  Dermot  take  lienri — and  he  tliouglit  some  fuio 

"Would  reward  liini,  at  lasf,  l\)r  (hi;;  ci'iuil  delay  ; 

Ho  litid  heard  it  remark'd,  '"It  wa.-;  no  use  to  fix't.'' 

And  l;('liov'd  tlu've  v,as  '•■■;-i'(Mt  luck  iii  ninVii  for  liiiii  yet;"* 

Aud,  seciiig  iliat  notliiiig  is  e'er  got  by  wishing, 

He  tliough  he'd  "get  up  out  o'  th;it,'"'  and  go  fishing  ; 


*  Tliere  is  fioiiietliinu;  V(  ry  ImK-liiiiii  i:i  tiio  !i('ji(';"iiliU'.--t  of  llic  Iri.-]i  p.-:is;;ni:-_v 
in  ilio  iniil-^t  of  all  tluir  jiovorty  iind  other  U'iiils;  ainl  tlio  two  s^iyiii'/s  (jiioicil 
above   ni'o   fre<|iU'Utly  lu'uril  unioii'ifst  fliis  liL;;lit-!iourt(>il  iumjoIc.     \^  to  l'a!_,':-i 
n.?;pii"i1ious   for  Iuc'k,  he  is  ac";isc'cl   of  jirdiictiiiicri  inakiiii;  a  tjhimlor  in  friving 
thf'.u  i,'Xi)iT'.~.-ii)ii,  vvh'.'ii  lie  I'i'owns  a  c;;p  to  Forliiao,  iunl  exolaiais,  "  'Ihe  woi--'« 

lu.'iy  iiovr,  th:^  ;;?-Ti'  ir,lot1l(",'  til'.li'  I"' 


rOETILAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER.  25 

But  oven  tiion,  Fancy  still  jolayM  her  sly  part  : 
The  net  seem'd  a  woman — each  herring  a  heart. 

And  thus  it  went  on — weeks  and  months  passed  away, 

And  Peggy,  the  pride  of  the  glen. 
Grow  fau*er  and  fairer  with  every  day. 

And  was  courted  by  all  sorts  of  nien  ; 
The  long,  and  the  short,  and  the  fat,  and  the  lean, 
In  Peggy's  long  list  of  admirers  were  seen, 
But  Dermot,  in  all  these  gx'eat  hosts  round  her  thronging, 
If  ho  was  not  the  longest,  at  least  was  most  longing — 
Longing,  tho'  vista  of  hope  seem'd  no  clearer — • 
Longing  for  time  that  came  never  the  nearer. 
Oh,  longing ! — thou  love-lure — thou  heart-wasting  fire 
Engend'ring  the  sultry  mirage  of  desire 
That  flatters  while  ilying,  allures  to  betray. 
Exciting  the  thirst  which  it  cannot  allay ! 


t 


Poor  Dermot ! — "What  projects  prodigious  would  start 

From  the  fanciful  fumes  of  that  furnace,  his  heart. 

To  haunt  his  poor  brain ! — Could  he  seize  on  some  chance 

That  might  better  his  lot  ? — Or  his  fortune  advance 

By  some  feat  of  great  prowess? — Some  high-daring  deed?— 

And  what  danger  could  daunt  him — with  Peggy  the  meed  ? 


Some  think  we're  surrounded  by  mystical  pow'rs. 
That  work  into  shape  the  wild  dreams  of  lone  hours. 
And  'twould  seem  that  such  spirits  wei'e  willing  to  test* 
The  forces  of  evil  and  good  in  the  breast 


*  How  prevalent  tliis  belief  in  attendant  ppirits  has  ever  been,  and  still  is,  wo 
havo  proof  from  the  earliest  times  to  our  own.  And  this  belief  is  no  proof  of 
a  weak  mind ,  for  one  of  tlie  greatest  philosophers  of  antiquity  held  it :  Socrates 
had  hi3  dcrciou.    Nor  is  the  belief  confined  to  Fasanism,  for  a  Christian  of  high 


26 


POETICAL   WiJlLKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVEIt. 


Of  the  dccp-loving  di-cainor — sdou  dooni'd  to  a  trial 

For  mortals  tlio  hardest  of  nil— .sdf-denial : 

But  if  spirits  of  darknosri  c^>  -watch,  an  'tis  said, 

To  pilot  our  way,  if  towards  wrung  we  would  tread, 

As  watchfully  j^iiiirdful  aro  spirits  of  li^^-ht. 

To  shod  a  bright  ray  on  our  piuiiway,  when  right, 

And,  o'er  our  poor  fishcrniaii,  7"'/;V7i  did  prevail 

Let  us  haste  to  record,  and  so  lliiish  our  tale. 

One  winter's  daj-,  Avhen  the  sea  rolled  black, 
W'th  a  fringe  of  white  on  its  foamy  trpck, 
A  storm-tost  ship  by  tlio  Skolligs  past  * 
With  shatter'd  sail  and  shivor'd  mast; 
Vainly  she  strivea  to  weather  the  shore — 
Brave  ship,  thy  course  on  the  ocean's  o'er  ; 
Nor  sail,  nor  helm,  nor  mariner's  might, 
Can  save  thee  from  being  a  wreck  thifs  night. 


The  fishermen  crowd  with  coil  and  rojje, 

To  the  clitr  where  the  doom'd  ones  drive  ; 
For  a  while  on  earth  and  sea  v.as  hope, 

incntiil  power  lias  recorded  a  i^iiuil.ir  eredencn.  Alexander  Pop  "  writes 
to  a  friend  :  "JJke  the  trust  Ave  have  in  benevolent  spiritK,  ivlio  h  wo 

never  see  or  hear  them,  v.-c  think  arc  constantly  pra.ying  lor  us  ''  ^xmi  this 
passage  Doctor  Johnson  has  quoted  in  his  Dictionary,  the  Doctor  himself  shar- 
ing in  the  belief  with  Pope,  lint,  to  <xo  to  tlio  highest  authority,  is  it  not  re- 
corded in  Holy  Writ  that  the  liarj)  of  David  was  employed  to  ciiann  aw.iy  ihe 
evil  spiiit  tiiat  made  terrible  t!ie  dark  hour  of  Saul? 

*  These  bold  masses  of  rock,  standing  some  miles  from  the  coast  of  Kerry, 
rise  abruptly  from  tlie  sea  to  a  considerable  hei.iilit,  in  sharp  spiral  lorms,  re- 
Bembliivj;,  is  some  aspects,  a  double  olielisk,  and,  hence,  are  looked  for  as  a 
landmark  by  mariners.  Tlie  point  is  of  such  importance  to  seafarers,  that  a 
lighthouse  is  established  here,  and  tiu.'refore  many  a  ship,  storm-tossed  or  other- 
wise, passes  the  Skelligs,  where  so  heavy  a  sea  runs  in  general,  that  tlie  lij;lit- 
house  has  to  be  well  furnished  with  supplies  of  jiroviMons,  as  sometimes,  for 
Bix  consecutive  weeks,  it  is  impossible  for  any  craft  to  apiiroach  the  solitary 
landing-place  on  these  desolate  crags. 


ii 


'     c  writon 
h  we 

iiiKfilf  s}i:ir- 
s  it  not  n;- 
1  luv.iy  ilitj 


I 


I'OKTIUAL  ]VOIiKS  OF  t<AMVi:L  LoVKlL  27 

Buh  ncnij^ht  with  tlio  might  of  tlie  storm  could  cope — 

'Twas  a  scene  that  the  heart  might  rive  ; 
The  hardiest  iisher's  cheek  was  p;iled, 
\\\i\  womcu  shriek'd,  and  chiklrcu  wailM, 
While  the  village  priest  lent  a  hand  to  the  toil, 
Heaving  the  cable  and  casting  the  coil, 
Cheering  his  flock  with  his  voice  and  his  blessing, 
Vrhile  deep  invocations  to  Heaven  addressing, 
And  when  mortal  might  could  no  more  essay, 
lie  exhorted  his  children  to  kneel  and  pray.* 

A  sight  more  solemn  was  seldom  seen, 

Than  that  on  tlie  stormy  eliiit',  I  ween  : 

The}'  might  not  cast  down  to  the  sea  a  rojie — 

But  to  Heaven  they  could  raise  the  holy  hope  ! 

And  down  tliey  knelt  in  that  stormy  night ; 

The  lightning's  flash  was  the  altar's  light, 

And  they  feaj-'d  as  they  cronch'd  on  the  drenched  sod, 

The  thunder  above  as  the  voice  of  God, 

With  awful  burst  and  solemn  roll 

Summoning  every  sinful  soul ; 

And,  trembling,  they  pray 

For  the  castaway. 

And  many  a  bead  they  tell, 
"\\^iile  the  boom  of  the  billows,  madly  rolling, 

In  crashing  breakers  burst  and  spent, 

And  the  howling  wind,  were  strangely  ble 
With  the  clang  of  the  chapel  bell —     ' 
Tolling,  tolling,  dismally  tolling 
The  mariners'  funeral  knell. 

*  This  is  not  an  imaginary  incident.  Just  svicli  a  scene  was  witnessed  by  a 
friend  of  mine,  who  communicated  tliiri  fact  to  me  nir.ny  years  ago,  and  it  made 
too  deep  an  impression  on  my  memory  ever  to  be  forgotten. 


L>a 


roi.ntM.  ii(/Aa>  ill'  .'■•AMLij.  j.i>v.!:n. 


Whon  moi'iiiii;^'  diiwiiM,  tlio  .storm  was  {.>"oiio, 
Ijiit  the  Ihuudorin;,'  v,  avcs  kept  rolling*  on  ; 
And  tlio  eyes  of  the  villug'o  woro  net  on  tho  sea, 
To  mtirk  how  much  of  tho  wreck  might  be. 


Her  naked  ribs  stand  gaunt  and  grim, 

While  planks  and  spars  in  riot  swim, 

And,  among  them  iloating,  can  Dermot  scan 

A  part  of  ihe  wreck  of  tlie  merchantman  ; 

'Twas  a  li'den  cask. — The  father  and  son 

IJy  a  glance  implied  what  might  yet  be  done ! 

'Twas  wine — the  rich  wine  of  sunny  Spain,* 

If  Dermot  a  Ci\sk  of  that  wine  could  gain, 

Witli  tlie  gold  lie  should  get  for  his  stormy  prize 

The  dream  of  his  .heart  he  might  realize  , 

He  then  might  wed  Peggy! — The  thought  and  the  act 

Of  the  father  and  son  were  as  one  ;  they  track'd 

Down  tho  clifl'  tlioir  swift  way,  and  as  swiftly  their  boat 

They  launch  through  the  foam,  on  the  waves  they're  afloat} 

Have  a  care  how  you  pull !   not  a  stroke  must  you  miss  ; 

The  brave  buoyant  boat  down  the  wat'ry  abyss 

Sweeps  deeply  and  swiftly,  then  up  the  "white  crest 

Of  the  Avave  over-hanging,  she  lifts  her  b.<».j,d  breast. 

And  casts  off  the  foam — lilce  a  sc;'t-bird,  whose  feather 

Is  made  for  defiance  of  hurricane  weather. 


*  How  thoy  should  know  tlu3  cask  contniuoil  wine,  and  not  only  wine,  but 
pronounced  to  Ijo  the  wine  of  Spain,  may  rcein  a  K.tiutcii  of  tho  autlior's  \\\\- 
iiginatioii,  or  that  too  nuicli  is  assumed  for  the  acuteness  of  liis  fellow-country- 
nu'u;  but  tlie  iiiforenco  of  tlic  fislu-riiU'ii  will  he  acknowledged  as  i)erfectly 
natural,  when  it  is  stated  tliat  a  uicreaiililis  iatercourse  between  Spain  and 
VJalway  has  cxi.-led  for  a  very  loii,';  time,  ami  that  along  the  western  coast 
of  Iri'land,  thnt  fa.ct  is  jn.rfi'etly  well  imibTsincd  :  liut  many  a  cast-awny  cask 
of  wine,  before  and  t-inco  O'Douotrhue's  day,  misiitliave  enlightened  stupider 
fellows  tlian  Irish  lishennea  aic  in  <;encra!,  without  any  special  knowledge  of 
Galway  importatiouH. 


Jiii.il'M,    WnliKs   or  SAMn-.L    I.CVI'A 


acfc 

boat 

:o  afloat ; 
miss  ; 


it, 
ler 


ily  wine,  but 
iiutliDr'jj  iin- 
low-counti'v- 
as  ])oiroctly 
\\  Spain  and 
csteru  coast 
it-awny  c-isk 
lied  stupider 
nowledge  o( 


Hiyli  lioaves  tlio  lingo  wino-Ciisk!  they  pull  might  ixin' 

As  near  and  more  noar  on  the  waif  they  gain, 

And  a  coil  and  a  ^;r,ipplo  uncrriiif^ly  threw 

The  hand  of  the  lover — well  done,  Dono/'lmc! 

The  cask  is  secured! — How  his  heart  bounded  then! 

He'd  have  not  ehan^'d  his  lot  with  the  proudest  of  men, 

As,  lashing  his  prize  to  the  stern  of  the  boat, 

"With  a  heart-wild  hurrah  Dcrmot  opnn'd  his  throat, 

And  then  bent  his  sinewy  arm  to  the  oar. 

To  pull  his  rich  prize  where  the  tide  swept  on  siiore ; 

IJut  while  with  fond  triumph  his  bosom  beat  higli, 

While  hope  swell'd  his  heart  and  joy  flash'd  in  his  eye, 

Ho  heard  o'er  the  waters  a  wild  wailing  cry, 

And  he  hung  on  the  oar  with  a  paralyz'd  dread : — 

P'or  the  cr}-  was  a  cry  might  have  waken'd  the  dead, 

As  up  rose  a  fragment  of  wreck  o'er  the  wave, 

Where  a  man  clung  for  life — o'er  a  water  1/  <jrave, 

Unless  Dermot  row  bac-lc  that  wild  shrioker  to  save. 

With  his  prize  at  the  stern,  he  can't  row  'gainst  the  storm, 

Where  the  billows  surge  up  round  the  drov.-niiig  man's  form. 

Oh!  what  shall  ho  do? — If  he  cling  to  his  prize, 

TTnreseued  that  poor  shipwreck'd  mariner  dies. 

If  the  prize  he  give  up — then  he  loses  a  wife ; 

A  forfeit  to  him  even  dearer  than  life, — 

So  he  look'd  to  his  father,  with  death  on  his  cheek, 

Ho  look'd — for  in  vain  had  he  striven  to  speak  ; 

And  his  father  said,  "Dermot,  my  boy,  I  am  old, 

I  can  bear  for  the  rest  of  my  life  the  keen  cold 

Of  poverty's  blast — but  for  you,  darling  boy, 

With  that  rich  cask  of  wine,  there  are  long  years  of  joy  ; 

So  do  what  you  like — save  the  man — or  the  cask — 

God  forgive  me,  if  answering  wrong  what  you  ask." 


30 


rOKTlVAL    WOIIKS  OF  .--AMrKL    IMVKIi. 


Oil!  could  you  lijivo  soon  tho  tlarlc  look  of  tlcspair 
Yonnj;^  Dono<,'hu{(  ciist  on  his  pmo — safoly  there — 
AVhilc  ho  heiU'H  the  faint  wail  of  tin;  fast-si iikin*,'  nailor, 
And  pulo  as  his  cheek  was — just  then  it  j^rew  paler. 
Fierce,  fierce  wan  tho  Htrujxglo— the  foul  tiend  had  nig'li 
jMade  Donoj^diue  deaf  to  the  drowninj,'  mau'H  cry, 
But  the  short  silent  pray'r  tho  young  lishernian  made, 
llestor'd  him— and  swiftly  he  drew  forth  his  blade, 
And  tlie  rough-handled  knife  of  a  iishcrman  wrought 
A  victory  more  glorious  than  sword  ever  fought, 
A  victory  o'er  self,  and  a  victory  o'er  lofc — 
That  passion  all  passions  supremely  above — 
Ho  cut  the  strong  lashings  tliat  held  his  rich  prize. 
He  was  deaf  to  the  calls  of  his  own  lieart's  wild  cries, 
While  the  cry  of  another  that  noble  heart  heeds — 
Oh!  talk  not  of  laurel-crown'd  conquerors'  deeds, 
Compar'd  with  this  fisherman's  feat  of  the  ocean. 
This  snigle-soul'd  triumph  of  Christian  devotion  ! 


High  Heaven  is  not  slow  in  rewarding  the  good  ; — 

When  Deruiot  the  drowning  man  sav'd  from  the  Hood 

Ho-  his  heart  in  its  generous  virtue  grew  brave, 

■\\1ien  he  found  'twas  his  brother  he'd  snatch'd  from  the  wave. 

His  brother,  who  long  had  been  absent  at  sea 

In  a  war-ship,  and  prize-money  plenty  made  he  ; 

The  money  was  safe  with  tho  agent  on  shore — 

Let  the  wine-cask  be  lost  in  the  breakers'  wild  roai'. 

As  the  prize-money  freely  was  shar'd  Avith  poor  Dormot, 

And  Hymen  gave  thirsty  young  Cupid  a  permit, 

For  Peggy  was  married  to  bravo  Donoghue, 

The  ^oving,  unsoltlsli,  and  nnuily  and  true ; 

And,  to  end,  as  tales  ended  in  my  boyish  day, 

"If  they  didn't  live  happy,  that  you  and  I  may!" 


pojrncM.  woiiKs  'W  ,s  ii/r/.v.  lovf.ii 


31 


ilur, 
nigh 
do, 
ht 


FATHEIl  KOACH. 


This  story,  liki'  the  forpgnin'.,',  U  IouikU'iI  on  fact,  ami  fxliihit;!  a  trial  ol 
paticiHM!  tliut  one  wonderx  liiimuii  imturo  could  support.  Pusaive  endurance 
wn  know  is  nioit'  ililTii-iilt  tliim  activo,  anil  that  wliirli  is  ri'Cnrilcil  iu  tho  fol- 
Iowiii;5  lali>  i.s  striotly  trui'.  The  main  facts  were  coiiuniinicatcnl  to  iiii'  tuaiiy 
yiMirs  ago,  in  till'  course  of  one  of  nuiny  ploaHimt  raiul)ies  tlii'o\i;,'li  my  iiaiUe 
laml,  liy  a  {j.'iitlenian  of  tlie  liis'liest  eiiaraetiM*,  whose  courtesy  ami  hture  of 
nneeilote  rendered  a  visit  to  his  house  moniorablo  :— 1  epeak  of  the  late  Chiia- 
topher  DuUew,  Esq.,  of  Mount  Uellew,  County  of  Galway. 


109. 


3od 

the  wave. 


rmot, 


Fatheh  iioAcii  was  a  good  Irish  priest, 
Who  stood  ill  his  gtocking-foet,  six  feet,  at  least. 
I  don't  mean  to  say  he'd  six  foot  iu  his  stockings  ; 
He  only  had  two— so  leave  oil'  with  your  moekiugs — 
I  know  that  you  think  I  was  making  a  blunder  : 
If  Paddy  says  lightning-,  you  think  he  moans  thunder : 
So  I'll  say,  iu  his  boots,  Father  lloach  stood  to  view 
A  line  comely  mtin,  of  six  feet  two. 

Oh,  a  pattern  was  he  of  a  true  Irish  priest. 
To  carve  the  big  goose  at  the  big  wedding  feast,* 
To  peel  the  big  pratic,  and  take  the  big  can 
(With  a  very  big  picture  upon  it  of  "Dau,")t 

*  Tlie  festivities  attendant  on  the  rnstio  wedding  in  Ireland  arc  never  oon« 
fiidcred  complete  without  the  presence  of  the  priest,  who  holds  presidential 
luUliority. 

t  "  Dan"  sicrnifiei?  Daniel  O'Connell,  whoso  portraits,  in  the  times  alluded  to, 
abounded  ihioiiL'lKiut  the  length  and  brendih  i^l  tlu' kingdom,  and  in  Ireland 
very  peuenilly  on  driiiking  v'^-s'^!^.  T!ie  Mhrivr-  dhiiimiUve  of  his  potent  name, 
was  tliat  by  which  the  peasantry  of  Ireland  loved  tu  designate  him.  It  wfis 
short,  and  could  pass  tho  more  rapidly  from  lip  to  lip  of  the  people  whost 


32 


]'()::ti<al  wouks  of  samci-.t.  i.i>vi:i:. 


To  pour  out  the  punch  for  the  bridegroom  find  bride, 
AMio  sat  smiling  und  bkishiug  on  either  side, 
"While  theii-  health  went  around — and  the  innocent  glee 
Piang  merrily  under  the  old  roof-tree. 

Father  Roach  had  a  very  big  parish, 

By  the  very  big  name  of  Knockdundherumdharish, 

"With  plenty  of  bog,  and  with  plenty  of  moimtain  : — 

The  miles  he'd  to  travel  would  throuble  you  conntiii'. 

The  duties  were  heavy — to  go  through  them  all — 

Of  th.e  wedding  and  christ  ning,  the  masfi,  and  sick-call — * 

Up  early,  down  late,  was  the  good  parish  pastor : 

Few  ponies  than  liis  wove  obliged  to  go  faster. 

He'd  a  big  pair  o'  boots,  and  a  purty  big  pony, 

The  boots  greas'd  with  fat — but  the  baste  was  but  bony ; 

For  the  pride  of  the  flesh  was  so  far  from  the  pastor, 

That  the  baste  thought  it  manners  to  copy  his  master  ; 

And,  in  tliis  imitation,  the  baste,  by  degrees, 

Would  sometimes  attempt  to  go  down  on  his  knees  ; 

But  in  his  too-great  freedom  tlie  Father  soon  stopp'd  him. 

With  a  dig  of  the  f^purs — or,  if  need  be,  he  whopp'd  him. 

And  Father  Roach  had  a  very  big  stick, 

AVhich  could  make  very  thin  any  crowd  he  found  thick ; 


principal  tlionie  of  convi-rsation  he  cniistitntiiJ  ;  .and  as  tliey  loved  ns  well  as 
honored  him,  the  familiarity  of  the  term  was  more  conso?iaiit  with  alleutioii. 
It  may  be  jrcnorally  romaikcd,  that  great  men  are  seldom  designated  in  pnlilio 
parlance  by  their  proper  nanic.^.  The  great  Xapoleon  was  familiarly  known  to 
the  French  army  under  the  title  of'Tlie  liittle  Cori>oral."  The  great  English 
Admiral,  Lord  St  Vincent,  was  called  "  liilly  IJlno  "  in  the  fleet;  and  flie 
illustrious  Iri'shman,  Wellington.  M-as  endeared  to  his  soldiers  under  the  signifi- 
cant and  rather  uouiical  name  of  '•Xnscv." 

*  This  ia  not  an  overdrawn  picture.     In  some  of  (he  wild  distri'-ls  of  Ireland, 
Iho  duties  of  the  lionian  Callioiie  priesthood  are  very  onerous. 


POETICAL  WOIIKS  OF  SAMUKL    LoVKU.  ^3 

In  a  fair  lie  would  rush  tbrougli  the  beat  of  the  action, 
And  scatter,  like  chaff  to  the  wind,  ev'ry  faction. 
If  the  leaders  escap'd  from  the  strong  holy  man, 
lie  made  sure  to  bo  down  on  the  lieafh  of  the  clan. 
And  the  Blackfoot  Avho  courted  each  foemau's  approach.. 
Faith,  'tis  hot-foot  he'd  ily  from  the  stout  Father  Koacli.* 

Father  Iloach  had  a  very  big  moutli. 

For  the  bravo  broad  brogue  of  the  beautiful  South  ; 

In  saying  the  ]\Liiss,  sure  his  fine  voice  was  lamous, 

It  would  do  your  heart  good  just  to  hc^ir  liis  "  Okemus," 

Which  brought  down  tlio   broad-shoulder'd  boys   to    tlicit 

knees, 
As  amj  as  winter  shakes  loaves  from  the  trees  : 
But  the  rude  blast  of  winter  could  never  approach 
The  power  of  the  sweet  voic.-c  of  good  Father  Roach. 

Father  Pioacli  had  a  very  big  heart. 

And  "a  way  of  his  own"t — far  surpassing  all  art ; 

His  joke  sometimes  carried  reproof  to  a  clown  ; 

He  could  chide  with  a  smile— as  the  thistle  sheds  down. 

He  was  simple,  tho'  sage — he  was  gentle,  yet  strong  ; 

When  ho  gave  good  advice,  he  ne'er  made  it  too  long, 

But  just  roll'd  it  up  like  a  snowball,  and  pelted 

It  into  your  ear — where,  in  softness,  it  melted. 


*  "  Blackfoot "  was  llio  name  of  one  of  tlio  many  faofions  tliat  (listiirJvcd 
public  ])('ace  in  Ireland  some  fil't.v  years  a.rco  ;  and  "  hot-fofit  "  U  an  Ilihornian 
fijjnre  of  speocli  dunotinc;  quick  walkint?  or  runjiin^; 

t  "  A  vray  of  his  own"  is  an  idiomatic  phrase  often  hear.]  in  Ireland,  and 
employed  very  nuicli  as  the  Prcncli  us'J  "Jo  nr.  s'lh  n"ii!."  As  f.ir  a  joko 
carryin,^  reproof,  that  is  a  common  landL'  of  f'nc;,  in  ii('!;ni.i,  an:!  no  ono 
nndor=tand'^  it  betier  tlsan  ihc-  Irish  priest.  Isiie.se.lf  a  Tflt.  and  "  to  the  nian.nor 
born;"  and  many  a  tough  follow  that  would  stand  without  flinching  under  a 
Lattery  of  serious  rebuke,  will  wince  under  a  witticism. 


..^fci^ifil'' 


34 


VOETirM   WOUKS  OF  SAMCh'L   LOVER. 


Tlie  good  Ffitlicr's  heart  in  its  unworklly  bli]iclues8, 
Overfiow'd  -witli  tlie  milk  of  human  kindness, 
And  he  gave  it  so  freely,  the  "wonder  was  groat 
Tliat  it  lasted  so  long — for,  come  early  or  late, 
The  unfortunate  had  it.     Now  some  people  deem 
This  milk  is  so  precious,  they  keep  it  for  cream  ; 
But  that's  a  mistake — for  it  spoils  by  degrees. 
And,  tho'  exquisite  milk,  it  makes  very  bad  cheese. 

You  will  pause  to  inquire,  and  with  wonder,  perchance, 
How  so  many  perfections  are  placed,  at  a  glance 
In  your  view,  of  a  poor  Irish  priest,  who  was  ^'ed 
On  potatoes,  perhaps,  or,  at  most,  griddle  bread  ;  -^ 
^Yho  ne'er  rode  in  a  coach,  and  whose  simple  abode 
"Was  a  homely  thatched  cot,  on  a  wild  mountain  road ; 
To  whom  dreams  of  a  mitre  yet  never  occurr'd  : 
I  will  tell  you  the  cause,  then — and  just  in  one  word. 

Father  Roach  had  a  Moxmni,  who  shed 

Hound  the  innocent  days  of  his  infant  Ijed 

The  influence  holy,  which  early  inclined 

In  heav'nward  direction  the  boy's  gentle  mind, 

And  stamp'd  there  the  lessons  its  softness  could  take, 

"Which,  strcngthen'd  in  manhood,  no  power  could  shake : 

In  vain  might  the  Demon  of  Darkness  approach 

The  mother-made  virtue  of  good  Father  Koaeh! 

Father  lloacli  had  a  In'other  beside  ; 

His  mother's  own  darling — his  brother's  fond  pride  ; 

*  Tho  (lomestiR  utonj;il  called  "griddlo"  in  Trolaml,  f^ocs  by  tho  nnnic  ot 
"  jrirdic  ■' ill  Scothiml,  and  is  so  spelt  in  Johnson's  Dif.'tionary,  with  the  defi- 
riitliiu  "  a  I'didid  II  111!  iiUiii.'  iur  lialviii^ii."  Tii<j  giid(.i!t;-lM'o<nl  of  Irehuid  is  ii  flat 
cake  of  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in  thickness,  generally  made  of  whole  wheatea 
meal  mixed  with  water,  and  without  yeast. 


POETICAL  WOIIKS  OF  SAMUEL  I.OVKIL 


35 


Great  things  were  expecffed  from  Franli,  wlieu  the  world 
Should  see  his  broad  banner  <  '  talent  unfurl'd. 
But  Fate  cut  him  .short — for  the  murderer's  kuife 
Abridged  the  young  daj's  of  Frank's  innocent  life  ; 
And  the  ]\Iass  for  hla  soul  was  the  only  approach 
To  comfort  now  loft  for  the  fond  Father  Roach. 


mce. 


.0 

ad; 


Father  Eoach  had  a  penitent  grim 
Coming,  of  late,  to  confession  to  him  ; 
He  was  rank  iu  vice— he  was  steep'd  in  crime. 
The  reverend  Father,  in  all  his  time. 
So  dark  a  confession  had  never  known, 
As  that  now  made  to  th'  Eternal  Throne  ; 
And  when  he  ask'd  was  the  catalogue  o'er, 
The  sinner  replied — "  I've  a  thrille  more." 


-ke, 
shake : 


tlio  name  ot 
iVitli  tlic  deli- 
I'liuul  is  a  fiat 
hole  wheatea 


"  A  trilie  ? — What  mean  you,  dark  sinner,  say  ? 

A  trifle? — Oh,  think  of  your  dying  day! 

A  trifle  more  ? — "What  more  dare  meet 

The  terrible  eye  of  the  Judgment-seat 

Than  all  I  have  heard?— The  oath  broken — the  theft 

Of  a  poor  maiden's  honor — 'twas  all  she  had  left ! 

Say  what  have  you  d«ne  that  worse  could  be  ?  " 

He  whispered,  "  Your  brother  was  murdered  by  me." 

"  O  God !  "  groan'd  the  Priest,  "  but  the  trial  is  deep, 
My  own  brother's  murder  a  secret  to  keep. 

And  minister  hero  to  the  murderer  of  mine 

But  not  my  will,  O  Father,  but  thine ! " 

Then  the  penitent  said,  "  You  will  not  betray  ?  " 

"  What  ?  I,  thy  confessor  ?    Away,  away ! " 

"  Of  penance,  good  Father,  what  cup  shall  I  drink  *?  "'- 

'•■  Drink  the  dregs  of  thy  life — live  on,  and  Ihinlc !" 


r<>i:T.'<  \f,  ]Vl>I:.l^■s  hf  s.'.Mri:/.  i.'>vi:i:. 


The  hypocrite  poniient  cuuiiingiy  found 

Tliis  means  of  yuppros.sin,i4"  suspicion  Jii'ountl. 

"Would  the  murderer  of  Friuilc  o'er  confess  to  hi;^  brother?  * 

lie,  surely,  was  yiiiitless  ;— it  must  be  souie  other. 

And  years  roll'd  on,  :ind  the  oiily  record 

Twixt  the  murderer 'b  hand  and  the  eye  of  The  Lokd 

Was  that  brother — by  rule  of  his  Church  decreed 

To  silent  knowledge  of  guilty  deed. 

Twenty  or  more  of  years  pass'd  away, 

And  loclcs  once  raven  were  growing  gi'ay, 

And  some,  whom  the  Father  once  christoird,  now  stood, 

In  the  ripen'd  bloom  of  womanhood, 

And  held  at  the  font  ihclr  balrlcs'  brow 

For  the  holy  sign  and  the  sponsor's  vow  ; 

And  grandmothers  smiled  l)y  their  v/cdded  girls  ; 

But  the  eyes,  once  diamond — the  teeth,  once  pearls, 

The  casket  of  beauty  no  longer  grace  ; 

Mem'rv,  fond  mern'rv  alone  might  trace 

Through  the  mist  of  years  a  dreamy  light 

Gleaming  afar  from  tlie  gcuia  ouco  bright. 

0  Time!  how  varied  is  thy  sway 
'Twixt  beauty's  dawn  and  dim  decay ! 


*  Here  was  a  very  crafty  cnlitrit;  for  while  to  thu  sonsdrf  of  the  wcrhl  in 
general  it  ■\vo\ilJ  appear  iinpossiblo  that  the  murderer  wauld  liave  clioscn 
tlie  brother  of  his  victim  for  his  confessor,  yet  that  very  aot  was  the  surest  to 
paralyze  the  action  of  the  i)erson  most  interested  in  making  a  discovery,  for 
even  if  any  chance  had  afterwards  tiirown  in  the  Priest's  way  a  clue  to  tlio 
mystery,  yet  lie,  having  been  already  cntrnstod  witli  tlio  fatal  secret  nmler 
"  the  solemn  seal  of  confession,"  was  precluded  from  making  any  nse  of  it  a  a  a 
■«"'ord  or  a.  \(^'A\  "f  Ins,  indicating?  or  sii'3;<-t''s!irig  even  a,  suspi<;iivi  in  the  true 
direction,  wonld  have  been  a  violation  of  the  sacred  trnst  reposed  in  him.  Tlio 
PricK*  was,  in  fact,  as  tiio  Inst  Iok?  of  the  stanza  slates,  committed  "  To  rUcnl 
knowlodfre  of  {;uilty  deed,'' 


roKTicAn  W'ljih's  or  samtkl  lover. 


37 


other  ?  * 


;d 


By  fmo  degrees  beneath  thy  harul, 

Doth  hiteut  lovelmess  expand  ; 

The  coral  casket  richer  grows 
"With  its  second  pearly  dow'r, 

Tlio  brilliant  eye  still  brighter  glows 
With  the  niaidou's  ripening  liour  : — 
So  gifted  are  ye  of  Time,  fair  girls, 

But  Time,  while  his  gifts  he  deals, 

From  the  sunlcen  socket  the  diamond  steals, 
And  takes  back  to  his  waves  the  pearls ! 


tood, 


It  was  just  at  this  time  that  a  man,  rather  sallow, 

Whose  cold  eye  burn'd  dim  in  his  featnr(!S  of  tallow, 

Was  seen,  at  a  cross-way,  to  mark  the  approach 

Of  the  kind-hearted  parish  priest,  good  Father  Eoach. 

A  deep  salutation  ho  render'd  the  Father, 

Who  return'd  it  but  coldly,  and  seem'd  as  he'd  rather 

Avoid  the  same  track ;— so  he  struck  o'er  a  hill. 

But  the  sallow  i:itrudcr  icould  follow  him  still. 


10  wcrld  ill 
lave  olioscu 
lie  snrent  to 
isoovcry,  for 

clue  to  llio 
li'cret  miller 
se  of  it  OS  a 

in  t'lo  tvii'j 
;i  liim.  Tlio 
(1  "  To  ^nerd 


"  Father,"  said  he,  "  as  I'm  going  your  way, 

A  wi;rd  on  the  road  to  your  reverence  I'd  say. 

Of  late  so  entirely  I've  alter'd  my  plan. 

Indeed,  holy  sir,  I'm  a  difterent  man  ; 

I'm  thinking  of  wedding,  and  bettering  my  lot — " 

The  Father  replied,  "You  had  better  not." 

"  Indeed,  reverend  sir,  my  wild  oats  are  all  sown." 

"But  perhaps,"  said  the  Priest,  "  they  are  not  yet  grown— 

"  At  least,  they're  not  rca2)'d,"— and  his  look  became  keener ; 

"And  ask  not  a  woman  to  be  your  gleaner. 

You  have  my  advice !"     The  Priest  strode  on, 

And  silonco  ensued,  as,  one  l)y  one, 


38 


VoKl'li'M.   WOllKS  Ob'  SAM  TEL   LOVER. 


They  tlircadeil  a  deep  defile,  Avliicli  wound 
Through  the  lonely  hills — and  the  soleniu  profound 
Of  the  silence  was  broken  alone  by  the  cranch 
Of  their  hurried  tread  on  some  witlier'd  branch. 


The  sallow  man  follow'd  the  Priest  so  fast, 

That  the  setting  sun  their  one  shadow  cast. 

"  Why  press,"  said  the  Priest,  "  so  close  to  me  ?" 

The  follower  answer'd  convulsively, 

As,  gasping  and  pale,  through  the  hollow  he  hurried, 

'"Tis  here,  close  by,  i^oor  Frank  is  buried — " 

''What  Frank?"  said  the  Priest— " TFAa^  Frank  !"  cried  the 

other ; 
"Why,  he  whom  I  slew — your  brother — your  brother!" 

"  Great  God !"  cried  the  Priest— "in  Thine  own  good  time, 

Thou  liftest  the  veil  from  the  hidden  crime. 

Within  the  confessional,  dastard,  the  seal 

'^^■as  set  on  my  lips,  which  might  never  reveal 

What  there  was  spoken — but  now  the  sun, 

The  daylight  hears  what  thine  arm  hath  done,* 

And  now,  under  Heaven,  my  arm  shall  bring 

Thy  felon  neck  to  the  hempen  string !" 


Pale  was  the  mnrd'rer,  and  paler  the  Priest. 
Oh,  Destiny  ! — rich  was  indeed  thy  feast 
In  that  awful  hour ! — The  victim  stood 
His  own  accuser ; — the  Pastor  good. 
Freed  from  the  chain  of  silence,  spoke  ; 
No  more  the  confessional's  terrible  yoke 

*T]io  moment  the  culprit  made  an  open  declaration  of  having  committed 
murder,  liis  words  reached  the  ear  of  the  priest  under  a  new  condition,  and 
left  liiin  a  free  ajfcnt  to  piililish  the  guilt. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


39 


er!' 


)d  time, 


committed 
ndition,  and 


i\[!i(l(3  liiin  run,  neck  and  neck,  with  ji  murderer  in  peace, 
And  the  villain's  hfe  had  run  out  its  lease. 


1, 

jried  tlie 


Tlu;  jail,  the  trial,  conviction  came, 

And  lionor  was  given  to  the  poor  Priest's  name, 

AVho  held,  for  years,  the  secret  dread, 

Of  a  mvirderer  living — a  brother  dead, 

And  still,  by  the  rule  of  his  Church  compeU'd, 

Tlie  awful  mystery  in  silence  held. 

Till  the  murderer  himself  did  the  secret  broach — 

A  triumph  to  justi^j  and  Father  Roach. 


40 


roi:T[''.\L  .•■(iUKs  iir  s.\ML'i:i.  i.ovi:n. 


THE   BLACKSMITH. 


If  tliw  story  1)0  not  fouiKkd,  liko  Ihc  prccoiliii.c;  oiios,  on  fact,  at  loast  it  h.m 
claim  to  vcrisimiMtudo.  During  tlio  pcrioil  of  "  WJiitcboy "  di-sturbanffs  in 
Irolaiul,  special  (.'nactinentH  were  pasficd,  l>y  which  (iiJportunjtioH  wcro  hut  too 
tcnii)tinKly  alVord'Hl  to  tho  vicious  to  implicate  tlio  innocent. — Along  with  this 
extra  Icf^al  severity,  tho  ordinary  coiu'se  of  justice  was  sot  aside;  the  law  did 
not  wait  for  its  accnstoniod  assizes,  but  Special  Conmiissions  were  held,  dis- 
]iensin,i;  jud.i^inents  so  fast  that  the  accused  had  in  many  eases  no  tinu'  tn  col- 
lect evidence  to  rebut  a  charj^'e,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  execution  fol- 
liiwcd  jnd^'uient  utterly  ])ara!yzed  the  wiiolesome  agency  of  respite  of  seutiuice. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  "  form  and  pressure  of  the  time  "'  iravo  op- 
jiortunitiea  to  scoundrels  to  uiake  tho  sharp  laws  of  those  day.-J  subservient  to 
many  a  base  purpose  ;  and  that  hundreds  of  imiocont  people  were  transported. 


Faintly  glitters  the  last  red  ray, 
Tinting  the  flickering  leaves  that  play 
On  tho  swaying  boughs  of  the  old  gray  trees, 
That  groan  as  they  rock  in  tlie  fitful  breeze. 
Deep  in  their  shado^v  a  watcher  lies, 
Tho  beam  of  the  lynx  in  his  eager  eyes  ; 
But  twilight  darkens — the  eye  cait't  mark — 
And  the  car  grows  keen  to  the  mental  "  hark," 
And  the  rustling  leaf  is  unwelcome  o'erhead. 
Lest  it  bafile  the  sound  of  the  coming  tread. 


There's  a  stir  in  tlie  thicket — a  footstep  outside, 

And  the  coming  one  stops  in  his  rapid  stride. 

As,  rising  before  him,  like  spectre  from  tomb, 

'Tis  a  man — not  a  ivonwji — appears  through  the  glomn, 

And  he  holds  hard  his  breath,  and  he  clinches  his  hand, 

Ashe  halts  to' the  low-mntter'd  summons  of  "  Standi" 


I'oKTICAL    lln/.'A'-.    "/•'  SA.VrHL    LoVKU. 


41 


lonst  il  liiM 
irbancrs  in 
oro  li!it  till) 
ig  with  111  in 
the  l;nv  diii 
e  lu'lil,  i\\<- 

tJIIU!  to  C'li- 

ccution  fi)i- 
)f  .seiitriii'i'. 
"  ixiivu  ((11- 
)sorvi«iit  to 
raiisportiMl. 


"  AVlio  dares  to  impede  rac?" 

"  "SVho  dares  to  iuvado 
AV' itli  ftuilty  purpose  the  quiet  gliide  ? 
'Tis  thu  !j  (jthor  you  meet  of  the  girl  you  pursue  : 
Now  gi\o  over  that  chase,  or  the  deed  you  shall  rue !" 
"  Back,  ruffiau  !   nor  venture  or.   ne  a  command  !" 
And  a  horsewhip  M'as  raised — but  the  vigorous  liand 
Of  young  Pliaidrig  the  Blacksmitli  a  blow  struck  so  sure 
That  it  i'eU'd  to  the  earth  the  Squireen  of  Knocklure. 

Kemomber,  I  pray  you,  the  difference  that  lies 

Between  Squire  and  Squirce/i.     To  the  former  applies 

High  birth  and  ligh  feeling ;   the  latter  would  ape, 

Like  the  frog  in  the  fable,  a  loftier  shape, 

But  as  little  succeeds.     Thus  are  lords  aped  by  flunkies, 

And  lions  by  jackals,  and  mankind  by  monkies. 

Our  Squireen  was  that  thing  as  a  "middleman"  known, 

An  agent — the  tyrant  of  lands  not  his  own. 

The  unscrupulous  servant  of  all  who  could  serve  him., 

The  means  of  advancement  could  never  unnerve  him. 

To  get  up  in  the  world,  nothing  balk'd  his  temerity. 

No  matter  how  he  might  go  down  to  posterity ; 

High  pay  and  low  pleasures  lie  loved — nothing  pure 

But  pure  whisky  could  please  the  Scpi-ireeu  of  Knockhu'e. 


om, 

land, 

I!" 


The  Blacksmith's  fair  sister  had  caught  his  foul  eye  : 

The  watclifiil  young  brother  was  quick  to  descry 

The  sly-baited  lures  that  were  laid  to  ensnare 

Her  heart  in  a  hope  that  might  end  in  despair — 

Such  hope  as,  too  often,  the  maiden  enthralls, 

Through  a  villain's  false  vows,  till  she  trusts  and  slie  falls- 

So,  to  save  from  pollution  the  simple  and  pure, 

Stern  warning  was  given  to  the  knave  of  Knocklure, 


42 


rOETIVAL    WO/lAS  OF  SAJHi'KL  LOVHll. 


Till  Pliaidri-,  jit  lust,  in  his  iiassion's  lierco  {»low, 
The  threat  of  the  horsewhip  chastised  with  a  blow. 

A  von<,'cauco  (Icmoniac  the  Squireen  now  plaun'd, 

In  fetters  to  palsy  the  brave  brother's  hand  ; 

In  the  dead  of  t)ie  night  loaded  arms  ho  conceal'd 

In  the  ridge  of  potatoes  in  Phaidrig's  own  held  ;  * 

Then  the  Smith  ho  denounced  as  a  Whiteboy.     A  search 

For  tlie  lire-arms  conceal'd,  tore  up  many  a  perch 

Of  the  poor  Blacksmith's  garden.     What  he  liad  .  itended 

Life's  prop,  was  not  only  uprooted,  but  blended 

With  seed  of  destruction ! — The  proof-seeking  spado 

Found  the  engines  of  death  with  the  staff  of  life  laid ! 

'Twas  enough.     Undeniable  proof  'twas  declai-ed 

That  Phaidrig  in  Wbiteboy  conspiracy  sjiared  ; 

The   B]a(!ksmith   was    seized,    fetter'd,    sworn   'gainst,    and 

thrown 
In  a  dungeon  that  echo'd  his  innocent  groan. 

Those  were  days  when  the  name  of  a  AVhiteboy  brought  fear 
To  the  passion  or  judgment — the  heart  or  the  ear 
Of  the  bravest  and  calmest — wlion  IMercy  aloof 
Stood  silent,  and  l);il)l)]iiig  suspicnou  scem'd  proof. 
Then  Justice  lookM  ].v, n'o  to  her  s-  -ord  than  hor  scale, 
Then  ready  uiilJirlM  was  llio  lj'iUis})()rt-ship's  sail 
To  hurry  the  doom'd  Ixyond  respite  or  hope — f 
If  their  destiny's  thread  did  liut  end  in  a  rope  ! 

*  TIh!  cducciilnicut  (if  arms,  or  luiy  oilu'V  tliin,!:^  tluit  involved  a  violation  of 
tliu  law,  was  not  uiiconunouly  ic.-.orteil  to  by  inl'oi-nu-rs  of  the  period  to  Avhicli 
tliis  story  rel'frrf.  The  ri<,'onMis  cnaetnionts  of  those  days,  and  the  unseriipii- 
loiLs  nuuiuer  in  -whiidi  they  were  earried  out,  olfered  teniiiting  opportunities  to 
luiy  miscreant  to  inculpate  an  innocent  num. 

t  This  is  no  exaggeration.  In  those  day.-^  of  "  Whiteboy  Persecutions,"  tho 
oondcnnied  were  sent  direct  from  the  con  -t-house  dock  on  board  the  transport, 


teudcd 


10 

d! 


inst,   and 


ught  fear 


lie, 


viohitioll  of 
oil  to  -which 
a  iiiist'i'ii])u- 
ii'tiuiilies  to 

itions,"  tho 
e  Irausport, 


I'OKTKAL    IIV^/.'AN   '//'  SWiri:/,    I.DVKIl. 


43 


riiiiidi'ig  soon  was  on  triiil.     'Wluni  ciiU'd  on  to  plead 

In  defence  to  this  charge  of  a  dj'rk  lawless  deed, 

This  tiiding  of  arms,  ho  replied,  "Tlio  Squireen 

She  ,v'd  the  place  of  coucealmeut ;  no  witness  has  been 

To  prove  ho  was  told  of  tho  arms  being  there  ; 

Now  how  did  ho  know  it?     Tlu.    (picstion  is  I'air — 

lint  unanswer'd.     The  old  proverb  says — '  Thoy  who  hide 

Can  lind.'     'Twas  the  villain  himself,  Avho  has  lied 

On  tlio  Gospels  he  kiss'd,  that  conceal'd  the  arms  there ; 

.My  name  thro'  the  country  is  blameless  and  fair; 

IM'y  character's  spotless.     Can  any  one  say 

I  was  found  among  Whiteboys  by  night  or  by  day? 

'Twas  the  Squireen  himself  who  couf  ri ,  cd  it :    my  cui'se 

Bo  upon  him  this  day — for  I  l;iio\v  tlicro  is  worse 

In  his  he!irt  yet  to  do.     There's  an  innocent  girl 

He's  hunting  to  ruin — my  heart's  dearest  pearl 

Is  that  same — and  he  seeks  for  my  banishment  now, 

To  brand  with  a  darker  disgrace  her  young  brow. 

If  I'm  sent  o'er  tho  sea,  she'll  be  thrown  on  the  world. 

Lone,  helpless,  and  starving.     Tho  sail  once  unfarl'd 

That  bears  me  from  her  and  from  homo  far  away, 

"Will  leave  that  poor  girl  to  the  villain  a  prey. 

That's  the  truth,  my  L(  rd  Judge.     Before  Heaven  and  men 

I  am  innocent !" — Lowly  tho  murmurs  ran  then 

Round  the  court ;   indignation  and  pity,  perchance, 

Glow'd  deep  in  some  bosoms,  or  gleam'd  in  some  glance  ; 

But  THE  Arms  left  the  timorous  jury  no  choice — 

They  found  "  Guilty  ;"  and  then  rose  the  Judge's  mild  voice, 


with  a  viow  to  strike  terror  throngh  the  hind.  Tii  these  days,  it  is  often  found 
<litTiciiU  to  obtain  a  conviction  even  lor  nnirder ;  und  should  convielion  he 
obtained,  oven  tiien,  witii  verdict  recorded  and  sentence  pas.sed,  we  have  seen 
appeal  made  tor  mercy.  But  at  the  period  to  wirudi  our  tale  refers,  many  aa 
innocent  man  was  "  whistled  down  the  wind"  to  the  penal  colonies. 


u 


I''H:ti<\i.  IU'/.■A■^  uf  s\\iiii    i.nv::!;. 


"Transportation"  IIi  •  stMitenco— but  Hoftly  'twas  said 
(Like  sunnnor  wind  waviu';^  the  p^rass  o'or  the  tload)  ;* 
And  Pliaidrij,',  thongli  Ktout,  folfc  hw  heart's  cui*rent  freeze 
"When  lie  liourd  hiiiiscU'  banish'd  bovund  "  tho  I'lir  seas." 
"Oh,  haii;^'  nio  at  once!"  ho  cylaim'd  ;  "I  don't  euro 
For  hl'o,  now  that  hfo  loaves  nio  only  despair  ; 
In  felon  chains,  far  from  tho  land  of  luy  birth, 
I  will  envy  tlio  dead  that  sleep  cold  in  tho  earth  !" 


Ho  was  hurried  away,  while  on  many  a  pah;  li[) 

Hung  prophecies  dark  of  "that  unlucky  ship" 

That  should  carry  him.     "  Didu'l  ho  ask  for  his  death  ? 

And  sure  Heav'n  hoars  the  pray'r  of  the  innocent  breath. 

Since  tho  poor  boy's  noi  lAazcd  with  the  sentence  they  found, 

Maybe  God  will  bo  good  to  him— and  he'll  bo  dhron-n'd  .'"  f 

Now  tho  villain  Squireen  Iiad  it  "  all  his  own  way, 

Like  the  bull  in  the  chiua-shoj)."     Every  day 

Saw  him  richer  and  richer,  and  prouder  and  prouder  ; 

He  began  to  dress  liner,  began  to  talk  louder ; 

Clot  plaeos  of  profit  and  places  of  trust ; 

And  went  it  ,so  fast,  that  tho  proverb,  "  needs  nnist," 

Was  whisper'd  ;  but  ho,  proverbs  wise  proudly  spurning, 

Thought  his  was  the  road  that  should  ne'er  have  a  turniuir. 


*  Such  jiulcjos  liiive  been,  in  wliom  the  suavite)-  in  modo,  for  liter  bt,  re,  has 
reiulovcd  thoir  sentences  but  more  terrible. 

t  Thin  passage  may  seem  grotesque  to  the  English  reailrr,  but  not  to  those 
conversant  with  Ireland.  In  tho  f.,st  place,  there  is  a  doip  trust  anwug  tiio 
Irish  i)en])le  that  "tiie  jivayer  of  tin'  innocr'nf  is  ut'Vcr  iniavailina:.  In  tlic 
second,  tho  phrase  "Cod  will  1)0  .<r"  -  i  •  '  him,"  i-  not  of  tho  author'-  making'', 
but  a  national  form  of  si)eecli ;  and  tliat  a  grant  .f  Divine  fa  cor  should  be  in- 
ferred from  the  antii  iii.iled  fact  of  a  man  being  drowDCil,  is  but  one  <if  those 
grotesque  liguros  of  spcocli  ili,,  h  i.n,  :  iibmunls  in,  but  which,  on  investiga- 
tion, and,  taken  with  tho  coh!i"c;,  will  hi'  found  to  contain  this  Jucaning— thai 
Heaven  will  grant  the  )ir.i3''i-  of  i  i<-i.-r,\  innocence. 


}'tii:ncu.  i'."/.'v<  ''/■  '•\''iri:i.  i."\'i:i:. 


1,') 


li.l 
1  freeze 

('lis. 

re 


Tut  "  Pride  lias  its  fall,"  ia  another  old  Kayin,',' ; 
llotvibutiou  null  come,  thonsh  her  viHit  delayinj,' ; 
Tli'iugh  varioUH  the  ways  of  her  dovious  approach, 
She'll  coiw — though  her  visit  bo  paid  in  a  coach  ; 
And  however  di.sj^'uised  be  the  domino  rare. 
The  mask  falls  at  last— RErmuuTioN  is  tukuk! 


ith  ? 

iveiith. 
ley  found, 

%-n'(i  r  t 


er; 


rnuif^, 
turning-. 

■r  in  yp,  luis 

not  in  those 
;  aiuoiij?  tlio 
iiig.  In  tlio 
or's  niiikiiifr, 
iliould  be  in- 

IIK'    <)t'  HlOrie 

in  iuvtistiga- 
euuiii'T— thai 


The  Squire'.Mi  lived  high,  drank  Champa<^'no  ev'ry  day, 

"  Tally  ho  !"  in  the  morninj,' ;  at  ni.^rht,  "  hip  hurr.'ih!" 

Tu  reckless  profusion  the  low  rascal  revel'd  ; 

The   true   "beggar   on   horseback"  —  you  knov/  where   ho 

travel'd. 
But  riot  is  costlj' — with  gold  it  is  fed, 
And  the  Squireen's  atfairs  got  involved,  it  is  said  ; 
Ami  tinu!  made  things  worse.     Then,  in  wild  speculation 
}{e  i)lunged,  and  got  deeper.     Next  came  p?c-ulation- 
Thcro  is  but  one  letter  in  difference— what  then  ? 
If  one  letter's  no  matter,  what  matter  for  ten  ? 
One  letter's  as  gO(jd  as  another — one  man 
Can  write  the  same  name  that  another  man  can  ; 
And  the  Squireen, /or.7('//in.7  /as  own  namr,  one  doy 
AVrote  another  man's  name— with  a  "^-romise  +     v)ay." 

All  was  up  with  the  Squireen— the  " Hue  and  Cry"  spread, 
AVith  "Five  Hundred  1'        i..  On  the  miscreant's  head  ; 
His  last  desp'rate  ch;u,,  ^  was  precipitate  flight, 
In  the  darkness— his  own  kindred  darknesa— of  night. 


But  what  of  ill.'  Blacksmith  ?— the  exiled  one,  east 
From  tlu  neaco  of  liis  home  to  the  wild  ocean  blast? 
Was  he  drown'd?— as  the  pitying  ]-»rophecy  ran  ; 


Did  he  die?— as  was  wish'd  by  the  1 


ic;Lit 


i-i^ken  laau. 


4G 


rOETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


No !  Heaven  bade  liim  live,  and  to  witness  a  si^-ii 
Of  that  warning  so  terrible — "Vengeance  is  Mine!"* 
He  return'd  to  his  home — to  that  well-beloved  spot 
Where  first  he  drew  breath — his  own  wild  mountain  cot. 
To  that  spot  had  his  spirit  oft  llown  o'er  the  deep, 
"Wlieii  the  soul  of  the  captive  found  freedom  in  sleep. 
Oh !  pleasure  too  bitterly  purchased  with  pain, 
"When  from  fancy-wrought  freedom  he  woke  in  his  chain, 
To  labor  in  penal  restraint  all  the  day, 
And  pine  for  his  sea-girdled  home  far  away  ! 


But  now  'tis  no  dream — the  last  hill  is  o'erpast, 

He  sees  the  thatch'd  roof  of  his  cottage  at  last, 

And  the  smoke  from  the  old  wattled  chinniey  declares 

The  hearth  is  unquenched  that  had  burii'd  bright  for  years. 

With  varied  emotion  his  bosom  is  swav'd, 

As  his  faltering  step  o'er  the  threshold's  delay 'd  : 

Shall  the  face  of  a  stranger  now  meet  him,  where  once 

His  presence  was  hail'd  with  a  mother's  fond  glance, 

With  the  welcoming  kiss  of  a  sister  adored  ? 

A  sister  ! — ah  !  misery's  link'd  with  that  word, 

For  that  sister  he  found — but  fast  dying.     A  boy 

Was  beside  her.     A  tremulous  flicker  of  joy 

In  the  deep-sunken  eye  of  the  dying  one  burn'd  ; 

Recognition  it  flash 'd  on  the  exile  return'd, 

But  with  mingled  expression  was  struggling  the  flame — 

'Twas  partly  aliection,  and  partly  'twas  shame, 

As  she  falter'd,  "  Thank  God,  that  I  see  you  once  more, 

Though  there's  more  than  my  death  you  arrive  to  deplore. 

Y(>t  kiss  me,  my  brother  !     Oh,  kiss  and  forgive — 

TluMi  welcome  be  death  !     I  ho,d  rather  not  live 


•■»  "For  it  is  written,  Vciigoauce  is  Jiiine,  I  will  repiiy,  saith  tlie   Lord,' 
liomans  xii  It). 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


47 


cot. 


lam, 


Now  you  have  returu'd  ;  for  'tis  better  to  die 
Than  Hnger  a  living  reproach  in  your  eye. 
And  you'll  guard  the  poor  orphan — yes,  Phaidrig  ona  chree, 
Save  from  ruin  my  child,  though  you  could  not  save  me. 
, Don't  think  hard  of  my  mem'ry — forgive  me  the  shame 
I  brought — through  a  villain's  deceit — on  our  name. 
When  the  flow'rs  o'er  my  grave  the  soft  summer  shall  bring, 
Then  in  your  heart  the  pale  flow'r  of  pity  may  spring." 


r  years. 


No  word  she  spoke  more — and  no  words  utter'd  he — 
They  were  chok'd  by  his  grief  ;  bvt  lie  sank  on  his  knee, 
And  down  his  pale  face  tbe  big  silent  tears  roll — 
That  tribute  which  misery  wrings  from  the  soul, 
And  he  press'd  her  cold  hand,  and  the  last  look  she  gave 
"Was  the  sunset  of  love  o'er  the  gloom  of  the  grave. 


!e 


re, 

plore. 


Lord/ 


The  forge  still  existed,  whore,  days  long  ago. 

The  anvil  rang  loud  to  the  Smith's  lusty  blow, 

But  the  blows  are  less  rapid,  less  vigorous  now. 

And  a  gray-hau-ed  man  wipes  labor's  damp  from  his  brow. 

But  he  cares  for  the  boy,  who,  with  lov  c  gives  him  aid 

With  his  young  'prentice  hand  in  the  smithy's  small  trade, 

Whose  stock  was  but  scanty  ; — and  iron,  one  day, 

Being  lack'd  by  the  Blacksmith,  the  boy  went  his  way, 

Saying,  "  Wait  for  a  mimitc,  there's  something  I  found 

Th'  other  day,  that  will  do  for  the  work,  I'll  be  bound  ;" 

And  he  brought  back  a  gun-barrel.     Dark  was  the  look 

Of  the  Blacksmith,  as  slowly  the  weapon  he  took. 

"  Where  got  you  this,  boy  ?"     "Just  behind  the  house  here  ; 

It  must  have  been  buried  for  many  a  year. 

For  the  stock  was  all  rotten,  the  barrel  was  rusty " 

"  Say  no  more,"  said  the  Smith.     Bitter  Memory,  trusty 


I 


48 


I'OETICAL    iVOUKS  OF  SAML'F.L  LOVER. 


As  ^Yatcli-clog  tluif,  barl.r,  ;ifc  tlio  fsi<^lit  of  ;i  foe, 

Sprang  up  wi  this  curse;!  iriomcato  of  woo, 

Aiul  the  hard-siu(!\v"d  Sniilh  iIvq.w  Lis  liaiul  o'er  his  ej'OS, 

And  the  boy  asks  hira  Nvliy — biit  ho  Dover  rcphos. 


Hark  !  hark  I— take  hoed  ! 
"What  rapidly  rings  down  tlie  rosidV 

'Tis  tho  clattering  hoof  of  a  foaming  steed, 
.Vnil  the  I'idor  p;de  is  sore  in  need, 
As  lie  'lights  at  the  iSmith's  abode  ; 
For  tho  hm'se  has  cast  a  dioe, 
And  tlie  rider  has  f,ir  to  go — 
From  the  gallows  lie  lues, 
If  o'ertaken.  ho  dies, 
And  hard  ]>eiiind  is  the  foo 
Tracking  him  fast,  and  tracking  him  sure  ! 
'Tis  the  forger — tho  seoundrol  Squireen  of  Knocklure  ! 
Flying  from  justice,  ho  tiies  to  the  spot 
AVherc,  did  justice  not  strike  him,  then  justice  were  not. 
As  the  straw  to  the  whirlpool — the  moth  to  the  llame— 
Fate  beckons  lier  victim  to  death  and  to  shame  ! 


'^^'iId  v/as  tlio  look  which  the  Blacksmith  cast, 

As  liis  deadliest  foe  o'er  his  threshold  pass'd, 

And  hastily  order^ul  a  rshoe  for  his  horse  ; 

But  Phaidrig  stood  motionless — palo  as  a  corse, 

While  the  boy,  unconscious  of  cause  to  liate 

(The  chosen  minister,  call'd  by  Fate), 

Flac'd  tiie  ixww  in  tho  tiro,  and  the  flame  he  blew, 

Froiii  f])o  r'!';ry  b:!rr<'l  fa  mould  a  shoo. 

Fierce^  as  tlu;  ;j;lo\v  of  !lio  forge's  lire 

FlashM  l''ii,iiuiig":i  ghuicos  of  .specchlcs:!  ire, 


POETICAL  WOliK.'i  OF  SAMC£L  LOVER. 


49 


;yos, 


As  tlie  Squireen,  who  couuted  tlio  momeuts  that  flew. 

Cried,  "  Quick,  fellow,  quick,  for  my  horse  a  shoe !" 

But  Phaidrig's  glances  the  fiercer  grew, 

While  the  fugitive  knew  not  the  wreck  of  that  frame, 

80  handsome  once  in  its  youthful  fame. 

That  frame  he  had  crush'd  with  a  convict's  chain, 

That  frame  /te  had  tarnish'd  with  felon  stain. 


I, 


e!    ■ 
loL 


"  And  so  you  forget  nie '?"  the  Blacksmith  cried. 

The  voice  roll'd  backward  the  chilling  tide 

Of  the  curdling  blood  on  the  villain's  heart, 

As  the  words  he  heard  with  a  fearful  start ; 

But,  with  the  strong  nerve  of  the  bad  and  the  bold, 

He  rallied — and  puU'd  out  a  purse  of  gold, 

And  said,  "  Of  the  past  it  is  vain  to  tell, 

♦Shoe  me  my  horse,  and  I'll  pay  you  well." 

"  "Work  for  you  ?     No,  never ! — unless  belike 

To  rivet  your  fetters  this  hand  might  strike. 

Or  to  d :  >  c  a  nail  in  your  gallows-tree — 

ThatV  Vv  only  work  you  shall  have  from  me. 

When  you  swing,  I'll  bo  loud  in  the  crowd  shall  hoot  you! 

"  Silence,  you  dog,  or,  by  Heaven,  I'll  shoot  you!" 

And  a  pistol  he  drew — but  the  startled  child 

Hush'd  in  between,  with  an  outcry  wild, 

"Don't  shoot!  don't  shoot !     Oh,  master  sweet! 

The  iron  is  now  in  the  lire  to  heat ; 

'Twill  soon  be  ready,  the  horse  shall  be  shod." 

The  Squireen  rcturn'd  but  a  curse  and  a  nod. 

Nor  knew  that  the  base-born  child  before  him 

Was  Ills  own  that  a  ruiu'd  woman  bore  him  ; 

And  the  gun-barrel,  too,  in  that  glowing  fire, 

Was  hiii  own— one  of  lliobc  he  had  hid  to  conspire 


I 


50 


rOETlL'AL   WOJiKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEB. 


'Gainst  tlie  Blacksmith's  life  ;  hut  Heaven  decreed 

His  own  should  result  from  the  durksoiue  deed. 

For  the  ban-el  f/ro.vs  red — the  charge  iyidtes, 

Explodes! — and  the  guilty  Squireen  bites 

The  dust  where  he  falln.     Oh,  judgment  dread! 

His  own  traitor-weapou  the  dcatli-shot  sped  ; 

By  his  own  child  it  was  found,  ;i:;d  laid 

In  the  wrong'd  one's  lire.     The  gathering  shade 

Of  his  *i.)om  was  coinpkited.     Fate's  shadows  had  spread 

Like  a  thunder-cloud  o'er  ids  guilty  head. 

And  the  thunder  burst,  and  the  lightning  fell, 

Where  his  dark  deeds  were  done,  in  the  uKniutain  dell. 

The  pursuit  was  fast  on  the  bunted  Squireen  ; 

The  reeking  horse  at  the  forge  is  seen, 

There's  a  shout  on  the  hill,  there's  a  rusli  down  the  glen 

And  the  forge  is  crowded  with  armed  men. 

With  dying  breath,  the  victim  nllow'd 

The  truth  of  the  startling  tale 
The  Blacksmith  told  to  the  greed}'  crowd. 

Who  for  gold  had  track'd  the  trail. 


! 


Vain  golden  hope — vain  speed  wiis  there  ; 
The  game  lay  low  iu  his  cnms  'U  iniv! 
To  the  vengeance  of  e  u'tii  no  v  <,•  i  ;i  w  s 
'Twas  claim 'd  by  the  hiji'lier  tribunal  oT  He  .v< 


POETICAL   WOUKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEh. 


51 


ead 


11. 


len. 


■A 


THE    DEW-DROP 

A  MKTRICAL  FANTASY. 


TAUT   I. 

A  PEw-nuor,  once, 
In  a  summer's  night, 

AVas  touclieil  by  the  wand 
Of  a  faithless  .sprite. 

As  the  moon,  in  her  change, 
8hot  a  trembling  ray 

Down  the  bosky  deil 

Where  the  dew-drop  lay  ; 

And  tainted  with  chanfre 
By  the  Avild-wood  spvilc, 

AVas  the  dew-drop,  till  then 
So  pure  and  so  bright. 

For  what  might  bo  pure. 
If  'twere  not  the  dew  ? 

A  gift  from  the  skies 
Earth's  sweets  to  renew. 

"What  may  bo  bright 
As  the  dew-drops  are '? 

Kindred  are  they 
To  the  evening  star. 


52 


rUETlCAL  iro/iVv.S'  oF  SAMUEL   LOVEti, 


Blest  is  the  dew 

AVhen  the  duy's  begun, 
It  flies  to  the  kijss 

Of  the  godlike  «iui. 

Blest  is  the  dew 

At  the  evening  hour, 
Taking  its  rest 

In  some  grateful  flower, 

That  gives  forth  its  odor, 

To  Avelconie  the  fall 
Of  the   dew-drop  that  sinks 

In  the  balmy  thrall. 

Jlnfolded  in  fragrance, 

Entranced  it  lies, 
Till  the  morning's  dawn, 

When  it  lightly  flies 

From  the  balmy  lips 
Of  the  waking  flower, 

Which  droops  through  the  day. 

When  the  dew-drop's  away, 

And  mourns  the  delay 
Of  the  evening  hour. 

Oh,  how  tl'       [)rito-struck 

Dew-droi    t^tray'd 
'JMong  the  Avildest  flow'rs 

Of  the  wild-wood  glade  1 

Toying  with  ali, 

She  w  as  coMhitant  to  none  \ 
Though  she  held  her  faith 

To  the  lordlv  sun. 


POKllCAL   WOliKS  OF  SA.VCKL  LOVER. 


53 


She  sought  a  new  couch 
As  the  eve  grew  dim, 

But  at  morning  she  ever 
Returned  to  him. 

The  fond  rose  pined 
In  its  hidden  heart 

"While  the  dew-drop  play'd 
Her  changeful  part. 

And  though  it  was  kiss'd 
By  ^ome  dew-dro[)  bright, 

Grieved  that  it  was  not 
The  one  of  last  night 


The  leaf-shelter'd  lily, 

Pale  "flow'r  of  the  vale,"  ■ 
The  love-plaint  felt* 

Of  the  nightingale ; 

^Vhose  song  never  bore 
So  much  meaning  as  now. 

Oh,  sympathy  !    subtile 
In  teaching  art  thou. 

The  violet  (heart-like). 
The  sweeter  for  grief, 

Sigh'd  forth  its  balm 
In  its  own  relief; 

"While  its  jealous  companions 

Conceived  it  blest, 
And  envied  the  pang 

Of  an  aching  breast. 


u 


l'Ot:Tir\r  WOUKS   o/'  .-.•.1.1/ /•/.•/.    LOVI.'ti, 


Thus,  ovc  after  eve, 

Did  the  dew-drop   betray 

tSoiue  leaflet  that  smiled 
On  the  lieiidaiit  spray  ; 

And  blossoms  that  sprang 
From  a  healthful  root, 

Faded  in  grief, 

And  produced  no  fruit. 

But  AS'hat  cared  she  V 

Who  was  always  caress'd, 

As  she  sank  in  delight 

On  some  fresh  flower's  breast. 

Though  it  died  the  next  night. 
She  could  pass  it,  and  say, 

"Poor  thing — 'twas  my  love 
Of  yesterday." 


At  last,  in  lier  pride, 
She  so  faithless  got, 

She  even  forsook 
The  forget-me-not. 

And  Nature  frown'd 
On  the  bright  coquette. 

And  sternly  said — • 
"I  Mill  teach  thee  yet 

A  lesson  so  hard 

Tliou  wilt  not  forget  I** 


POETICAL  W0I:KS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVrJi. 


55 


PAKT     II. 

The  roses  of  Riinmicr 

Are  past  and  {?one, 
Aii'l  sweet  things  are  dying 

One  l)v  one  : 

But  antiuun  is  bringinj^, 

In  richer  suits, 
To  match  with  his  sunsets, 

His  glowing  fruits; 

And  the  flowers  the  dew-drop 

Deserted  now 
For  the  richer  caress 

Of  the  dustcring  bough. 

So  dainty  a  dew-drop 
A  leaf  would  not  suit, 

For  her  nothing  less 

Would  suffice  than  the  fruit. 

The  bloom  of  the  plum 

And  the  nect'rine's  perfume 

Were  deserted,  in  turn, 
A  fresh  love  to  assume ; 


And,  as  each  she  gare  up, 
If  her  conscience  did  preach, 

He  ready  excuse 
Was  the  down  of  the  peach. 


hil 


f'ii/:T[(' {f.    \V'>[;KS   nl--  s  WtriJ.    l.oVKlt. 


3iufc  fruits  will  l)o  f^atlioi'd 
Va'g  rtutniDii  sliiill  dose ; 

Thfn,  'wlu'vo  in  Iwr  pvido 
^hiy  11  u!  tk'w-drop  repose  V 

Xor  n  bud,  nor  ii  ilower, 
Nor  a  loiif  is  there  now; 

I'liey  are  j^oiif^  whom  she  shghtcd- 
'L'hcr(>'s  nonglit  but  tlio  bovigii. 

And  tlie  dt'w-dru])  would  now 

.K<!ep  lier  niuusiou  of  air, 
Willi  hrr  Ini^ht  lord  the  sun, 

Nor,  al  C'vciilii^,  r<']>air 

To  the  desolate  earth, 
Where  no  lovers  rcnnain, 

But  grasses  so  hnmble, 
A-1  bi'iinibb-s  <;:o  plain. 

Ho  erooked,  so  knotty. 

So  jagged  and  bare — 
Jiidrcd  would  the  dew 

Keep  her  mansion  of  air! 

i)ut  Nature  look'd  dark. 

And  her  niandate  gave, 
And  the  autunni  dew 

Was  her  winter  slave, 

\\'hen  tlie  lordly  sun 

Had  JiiH  iournt'v  sped, 
Far  Ml  the  south. 


Towards  occ 


ui  s 


bed 


I'UKilCAL  ]|7'/'A'S  OF  s.\MiKL   LOVEU. 

And  Kliort  Avas  tlic  tune 

Tliiit  lie  held  the  sky, 
ll'xH  orilluiimii!  wtiviuf,' 

Nor  loiijj;  nor  lii;;li ;-    • 

And  lilt'  (l(;\v-ilrup  Itiy 
In  the  dark  cold  hours, 

Embraced  by  th(>  weeds 
Tliat  Kurvived  the  flowers. 

Oh!  chill  was  her  tear, 

As  she  thought  of  the  night 

She  had  wept  in  pure  joy 
At  her  rose's  delight; 

While  now  for  the  morning 
She  Bigh'd— that  its  ray 

Should  bear  her  from  loathsome 
Embraces  away. 

Like  a  laggard  it  came ; 

And  so  briefly  it  shone, 
She  scarce  reach'd  the  sky 

Ere  her  bright  lord  was  gone  j 

And  downward  ngain 

Among  weeds  was  she  borne, 
To  hnger  in  pain 

Till  hor  bright  lord's  return. 

And  Nature  frown'd 
On  the  bright  coquette, 

And  again  she  said^ 
"  I  will  teach,  thee  yet 

A  lesson  so  hard 

Thou  wilt  never  forget!" 


r>7 


C8 


POKTWAL    MOIiKS  or  SAMVKJ.   l.oVKU 


I'AltT    III. 


Tiiiiui  (ill  Iho  bun!  briiiicliea 
Sillied  tlic  (;hill  In-ca'zc, 

Ah  tlu!  sun  went  down 
AVLore  the  leiilless  trees 

Arc  darkly  stiindinn;, 
Like  skeletons  gi'ini, 

'Gainst  tlie  fading,'  light 
Of  the  ■west,  grown  <lim  ; 

And  colder  and  colder 

The  embers  decay 
That  were  glowing  red 

With  the  iire  of  day, 

Till  (hirkness  wrapp'd 
In  her  mantle  drear 

The  withering  forms 
Of  the  dying  year. 

Thus  bleak  and  black 

Was  the  face  of  the  world, 
Wlien  Winter  his  silverv 

Banner  unfurl'd, 

His  sprites  sending  forth 
In  their  olitt'rir.o-  prrav 

To  seize  in  the  night 
Each  fantastical  spray; 


FOKTliM.   ]\<>l!h.     '//■'   <.\\iu:i.    I.<>\1 


59 


And  tlu)  fern  in  the  wot)il, 
Antl  the  rush  by  tho  Btreaiu, 

"NVero  sparkling'  with  t,'('iuH 
In  lh(!  luorni'ig  beam. 

So  chiirm'cl  was  tho  stream 
"With  the*  bounty  aroxind, 

That  it  stopp'd  in  ita  coni'HO, 
And  it  nttf'i-'d  no  Konnd  ; 

In  the  Bihnit  entrancement 
Of  \V inter's  cmbx'aco, 

It  sought  not  to  wander 
From  that  c^civmed  place; 

For  better  it  loved 

With  oU;  A\  inier    -o  be, 

In  the  di'mo(   '-hung  woods, 
Than  be  lost  in  tl-o  Roa. 

But  the  dew-drop's  homo 
Was  in  yon  bright  sky, 

And  when  in  tho  sunbeam 
She  sought  to  fly, 

Chain'd  to  a  weed 

AVas  tho  bright  frail  thing, 
And  she  might  not  mount 

On  her  morning  wing. 

"Ha!   ha!"  laugh'd  Nature, 
"I've  caught  thee  noAV  ; 

Bride  of  old  AViuter, 
Brigl.-t  thing,  art  thou! 


I 


GO 


I'oHlfr  If.     ll'//7/V>    <'/■  s  {  Mf'i.n    f.oVF.IL 


•'  Tliiiik  of  iiow  many 

A  llowcr  iV.r  tliot! 
Hath  \vusr<!l'its  licait 

In  (.1('sp;)nil('iicy. 

*"No\v  Avliero  thou'rfc  fettt'r'd 

Thou  mud  reinaiu  ; 
Let  t.liy  prido  vojoiee 

111  so  hrir/hf  !i  ("hail!." 

''  Truo,"  said  the  dew-drop, 
"Is  all  tlton'st  tohl, 

My  fetters  arc  bri.iiflit— 
But  all,  .<()  eold ! 

"Ivatlier  tlian  sparkle 

In  di'inond  chain, 
I'd  dwell  with  the  humblest 

Flower  aj^ain  ; 


"And  never  would  rovo 
From  a  constant  bliss, 

If  I  miji'-ht  'scape 

From  a  fate  like  this; 

"In  glittering  misery 
Bid  me  jiofc  sleep! 

!Rfother,  oh,  let  me 
3lelt  and  weep ! 

"Weep  in  the  breast 
Of  my  clioson  flower, 

Aud  for  ever  'cnounoe 
]\Iv  cliaugeftil  hoiir ; 


roKTirwr  Works  oh-  snici:/.  lovrh. 


61 


"For  tho'  to  the  skies 
I  shall  daily  spviii'(, 

At  the  suur-ise  bright, 
On  niY  raiiibpw  v.iu-.;, 


"To  my  flowor  I'll  letuin 

At  golden  even, 
"With  a  love  rcfresh'd 

At  the  fount  of  heaven  1" 

The  Spirit  of  Spring 

Was  listening  near  ; 
The  captive  dew-drop 

She  canio  to  cheer ! 

Her  fetter  she  broke, 
And  the  chosen  flower 

Was  given  to  the  dew-drop 
In  happy  hour. 

And,  trne  to  lier  faith. 
Did  the  dew-drop  coine, 

When  the  honey-bee, 
With  his  evening  hum, 

Was  bidding  farewell 

To  the  rose,  which  ho  taught, 
By  his  fondness,  to  know 

'Twas  with  sweetness  fraught 

And  the  vo^/i  thought  the  bee 

Wa*  a  silly  tiling, 
To  fly  from  the  dew 

With  hif,  heavy  wing ; 


62 


i'lij-.Tlf  AL   ll-'/.'A-.S   ''/'  SAMIKL   LOVKE. 


FcT  "All !"  fnghed  the  rose, 
As  it  luing  oil  the  bough, 

"Bright  dew-drop,  there's  nothing 
So  sweet  as  thoii!" 


--♦•♦- 


THE    BRIDAL    OF    (I  ALT  RIM. 


A   i.i;i;k\i>   or  mai.aihdk.  r.\^*ri.K. 


TuE  priest's  at  the  altar  ;    the  bride  and  the  groom, 

The  bridesmaids  and  gallants,  with  doff  d  cap  and  plume, 

Are  kneeling  around  till  the  word  forth  is  gone 

That  blesses  the  union  of  two  into  one. 

But  while  the  devout  wer(!  res})oiuling  "Amen," 

The  blast  of  a  war-trumpet  rang  thro'  the  glen, 

And  each  man,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  grijjp'd  liis  sword, 

While  the  fresh-pliglited  hand  of  the  bride  held  her  lord. 

"  Oh,  hold  mo  not,  dearest ! — j-ou  would  not  detain? 
It  is  honor  to  go — 'twere  disgrace  to  remain. 
The  foe's  at  the  gate  ;  we  nxust  drive  him  away  : 
A  joust  is  befitting  a  chiefs  wedding-day  !'* 
He  budded  his  mail  o'er  his  gay  wedding  garb  ; 
He  call'd  for  Ijis  lance,  and  he  sprang  on  his  barb. 
And  vx-aved  back  a  graceful  adieu,  as  he  cried, 
"A  victor  I  soon  will  bo  back  Vi'itli  my  ])ridc  !" 


*  A  pr.ssesyion  ■     the  Iriuh  Tulbot.*.    At  prescut  tlio  seat  of  Lord  T^ilbot  di 


i'OKrirM,   Wdl.'hS  OF  <.\M(JKL    T.OVKU. 

Au<l  .".nail  7'Y.'.-.'  iui  ]);k'1c,  iiiiJ  a  victor  beside, — 

Bat  'twas  to  liiy  wid(j\v,  and  not  to  his  bride ; 

roi-,  foremost  in  danger  the  foe  to  repel, 

J;i  the  luomeut  of  conquest  the  conqiieror  fell. 

S](;\vl_v  ibc  victors  return  from  the  field, 

L:r.);('!iti)i<^'  the  kni<>-ht  whom  they  bore  on  his  shield; 

'Viid  the  Lfidv  of  G-;dtriiii,  ap  Chronicles  sav, 

Wiiy  maid,  wife,  and  widow — and  all  in  one  day. 


OS 


--«•*♦- 


THE    MAIDEN    MASQUE. 

51iO\VIX(}  now  TCl{Oi;SllH  ■tllE  ])A.M:  IXVADKO  IUKLAXD.  his  ItAIinAKOUS 
RUr.K.  AND  riUKI,TIKS.  COMMirrKD  THKIiKIN.  AND  IlKS  FINAL  OVKRTIIROW 
IJY    MAOLSF.t     '!1,IN-,    K[N(i    OF   MKATIT,    A.  1).    80(>. 


FYTTE    THE    FIRST. 

'TwAS  a  thiof  audacious, 

One  call'd  Tur^>-esius, 
A  Dane  ])ugnacious  from  the  frozen  sai ; 

^Vhen  the  ice  was  melted, 

Awa}"-  ho  pelted, 
fiwoordcd  and  belted,  all  for  Dublin  Bay. 

He  h;>d  no  i!(ict:^, 

For  his  own  bare  rocka 
Wouldn't  feed  a  fox,  much  less  a  .sheep  : 

"Without  a  flitci-  in 

His  .stinted  kitchen, 
8ome  prog  to  pitch  into  he  went  to  seek. 


C4 


TdKTU'M.    If'/'/v's'  "/■'  SAMVKl.    T.OVKU. 

There's  no  deiiyiii' 

(Unless  through  lyin"), 
That  given  to  llyiu'  Avas  the  Pat.s  that  day  : 

Thy  sons,  Milaysius, 

Tlie  lierce  Targesius 
CompeU'd  most  spaciously  to  clear  the  way. 

^Yith  rierce  aggression 

He  took  possession 
(The  thievin'  robber!)  of  the  Emerald  Isle  ; 

And  his  bad  behav'or 

To  every  neighbor 
In  tears  soon  dhrownded  that  nation's  smile! 


For  'twas  his  ordhers 

That  at  free  quarthers 
His  throops  should  live  upon  the  natives  then, 

■\Vhich  made  it  hardher 

To  keep  the  lardher, — 
For  them  Danes  was  mighty  purty  trencher-men. 

Of  a  feast  right  hearty 

That  wcnild  feed  a  party 
Of  a  dozen  Irish— ay,  and  spariu'  some— 

One  Dane  was  able 

To  clear  the  table, 
And  wonhbi't  lave  the  tlies  a  single  crumb. 


If  a  widow  lonely 

Had  one  cow  only 
To  feed  her  orph.ans  with  a  dhrop  o'  milk. 

In  th'^t  the  rulil'ns 

■\Vould  Rteep  their  muflhis  j 
Au'l  tlie  vouiig  Hibernians  of  thoir  break last  bilk. 


J'OFTICM.    ]\i>liKS   OF  >.M/r/-.Y,    l.OVKli. 


65 


They  s:uv  no  liarin  in 

To  see  th<;in  starviu', 
So  fur  their  own  selves  they  got  enow ; 

And  if  any  glutton 

Ha:l  a  taste  for  mutton, 
He  scorn'd  the  widow  and  kilt  licr  cow. 

'Twas  hard  times  thin 

For  the  thrimbhn'  hin, 
As  her  soroechiu'  chiiikens  all  disappear'd  : 

In  deep  despond,  sure, 

She  paced  the  pond,  sure, 
And  wish'd  'twas  dueldins  that  slie  h:ul  rear'dl 

For  his  posterity. 

In  loud  temerity. 
The  cook  did  crow  all  in  bitter  wrath, 

Forseeiug,  clearlr, 

How  very  neaily 
Hi?i  own  fate  tended  towards  chicken-brotU. 


Then  the  Hierarchy 

Grew  starin'-starky- 
3[ad  and  outrageous  at  these  goin's  on, 

And  proclaim'd  at  last 

That  a  solemn  fast 
Should  be  kept,  with  prayer,  until  the  Danes  were  gone ' 

But  the  starvin'  crowd, 

With  a  murmur  loud, 
Cricil,  "  Fasts  can't  r:ave  us,  you  must  allow  : 

Could  fusts  bring  freedom 

■\Ve  should  not  need  'em. — 
For  we  oan't  fant  fust'-r  llian  we"r(;  faslin"  now  ! " 


6« 


POETICAL    WOllKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVEH. 


Turgesius  ruled,  then, 

An  ounc*;  of  goold,  men 
Of  Irish  blood  ev'ry  j-ear  slioukl  pay, 

Or  of  each  defaulther 

He  the  face  would  alther 
By  loss  of  nose  on  the  thribute  day. 

What  noses  then  cost 

The  art  my  pen's  lost 
In  sterlin'  value  to  calculate ; 

But  now,  .it  Mint  price, 

■'Twould  (at  the  stint  price) 
Be  three  pounds  se^■tuteeu  and  tiupince  nate. 


All  o'ldication 

From  out  the  notion 
Hf  ije>:t  dctarmirs  to  undhermine, 

And  ^vlio  refuses 

r^t  renounce  the  Muses 
The  liof^gin'  cat  is  his  tuneful  nine. 

The  Satos  of  Larnin' 

(Arm-chairs  so  »;Havmiu') 
Was  kno(;k'd  to  smithcrv  by  the  Tyrant's  toola» 

Tiil,  iji  saycret  places. 

Each  prof{^ssor  taches  : — • 
The  Siites  of  larnin'  but  three-legged  stools. 


No  Irish  wench,  sure, 

Could  even  venture 
To  take  a  walk  in  the  rurial  shade ; 

For  the  Danes — the  blaclcgiiarda— 

Did  haunt  the  stack-yard.s. 
And  small  attintiou  to  manners  paid. 


POhni'M,   WOliKS  OF  SAMCKL    LOVKU. 


01 


So  the  girls  kept  knittiu', 

To  keep  tliem  sittiu' 
At  home,  uukuownst  to  these  furriu'  Tarka, 

In  saycret  spiunin'. 

Or  weaviii'  hnen, — 
A  thratle  that  still  iu  this  nation  works. 


I 


No  lady's  scarf  flow'd 

By  sweet  Clontarf  roatl, 
The  sai-breeze  coortir.'  in  the  settin'  sun  ; 

Foi-,  if  Dane  did  spy  it, 

To  saize  he'd  thry  it, 
And  for  her  life  w  .  s  Beauty  forced  to  run. 

If  the  robbers  coukl  close 

With  her,  the  good  clothes 
From  off  the  Irish  ladies'  backs  they  tore. 

Their  own  dhrabs  dhressiug, 

With  much  caressing, 
In  silks  and  sath^s  they  ne'er  saw  before  : 


While  the  rags  ihey  cast  off 

Were  basely  pass'd  off 
Upon  the  lovely  Irish  ladies  fair, 

Who,  mad  as  hatters, 

To  match  their  tatters. 
Began  (no  wondher)  for  to  tear  their  hairl 

But  stars  disasthcrous. 

When  they  o'erraasther  us, 
Sweet  Pity  plasther  us  at  last  bestows 

For  wounds  past  bearin' ; 

And  so  poor  Erin 
A  friend  in  need  found  to  aise  her  woes! 


08 


I'OKTICAL    noi;KS   OF  SAMUEL   LOVER. 


■'I'uas  one  MaoLsctic'lilin  ; 

And  not.  in  Loclilin — 
Bonowii'd  I)V  Osfiiiiii,  that  J'linco  of  Bards — 

Could  one  be  found  who 

AVas  more  iiroiound — who, 
In  game  of  life,  bctther  play'd  his  cards. 

lie  had  the  knack,  8ir, 

To  cut  the  pack,  Sir, 
Where'er  the  i^ing  might  a])proach  the  knave  ; 

And  though  odd  thricks 

In  his  acts  might  mix, 
His  honor  always  he  eonthrived  to  save. 

His  head  was  long,  Sir, 

His  sinse  Avas  sthrong,  Sir, 
His  manes  was  narrow,  Ijut  his  shoulders  broad 

'.['o  bear  the  griefs 

Such  as  Irish  chiefs 
Time  immenu)rial  have  sustain'd  unaw'd 

J  Us  voice  was  low, 

And  his  speech  was  slow, 
So  his  temper  <|uick  could  iiotget  the  start 

Of  that  hesitation 

AVhich  gave  contimplation 
Full  time  to  measure  what  he  said  wi^h  art. 


He  had  a  daughthcr 
Of  "  the  purest  wathcr," 
A  jcAvel  rarest  from  beauty's  mine  ! 
if  Jlunt  and  Storr,  Sir, 


Had  such,  bc-gor,  Sir, 
From  all  their  stock  it  would  take  the  shine  ! 


POETICAL    WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEIt. 


69 


And  fu'rcc  Turgxv^ius, 

Tliiit  l)rute  salacious, 
This  princess  proud  when  he  chanced  to  spy, 

lie  kick'd  up  a  shindy- 

At  her  dlirawin'-room  Avindy, 
And  swore  that  none  should  lijs  love  deny  I 


80  the  king,  her  father, 

Tliough  he  would  rather 
(If  he  had  his  will)  knock  the  villain  down, 

AVilli  smiles  dissembliu' 

Jlis  rage  and  thrcmblin', 
He  plannM  a  deed  that  gave  him  much  renown. 

He  knew  that  Cupid 

Makes  pe()i)le  stui)id, 
Knowin*  no  differ  betune  wrong  and  right; 

Or  like  thrav'lers  silly 

That  wispy  Willy 
Deludes  to  death  with  his  false  rushlight  1 


''0,  (Jreat  Turgesiusl" 

Savs  the  sire  sagacious, 
•  'Tis  well  you  know  that  you  cannot  wed; 

The  Church  declares 

We  must  love  in  pairs, 
Nor  exceed  the  measure  of  a  double  bed. 

Therefore,  Turgesius, 

Your  heart  capacious 
Expands  beyant  the  bounds  oi'  Canon  Law  ; 

But  as  you're  a  dashin' 

High  man  of  fashion, 
'Tis  little  you  think  of  a  small  y■</'^'•  pas. 


70 


POJCriVAL   \Vi}liKS  OF  SAMUEL    l.oVElt. 

"!Kow  'tis  v.-ell  known,  Sir, 

Bono  of  your  V)oiu',  S:r, 
Yoa  l.avc  already  an  onkl  scra^',-y  Jume  ; 

Thongb  you'd  like  bctthev  a 

Plump  young  el  cwtera, 
You  know  it  on^'t  h^  without  sin  and  shame. 

80  F  .'^1        .:'.    :ui,  Sir, 

III  llii^i  ihio  Oi.  Saints,  Sir, 
.1  hope  you'll  put  upon  your  passions  wild, 

Nor  in  this  nation 

Mar  tlio  reputation 
And  the  marriage  prosp  '  .  j  'ovely  child  I 

"Not  but  upon  her 

I  know  'tis  honor 
Tliat  you  should  (;ast  your  discernin'  eye, 

And,  like  a  bellows, 

Thro'  her  window-threllis 
Fan  love's  soft  flame  with  your  stormy  sigh. 

But  love's  bright  trndlo 

Might  enlighten  scandal. 
Which  soon  explodes  with  an  amorous  spark  I 

So  my  advice  is. 

In  this  tindher  crisis, 
"NVe  nse  some  prudence  to  keep  it  dark. 


"  Think  how  they'd  boast.  Sir, 
In     he  Muniing  F    \  Sir, 

Of  Ihia  escapade  made  in  circles  high  ; 
And  'tOw  ironical 
The  3loi^inrj  Chronicle 

To  cwi  a  joke  at  o\u'  cost  w  •'■"'  1  thry. 


POETICAL  WOUKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVElU 

Antl  tliink  what  rliyraos 

"Would  o'erflow  The        'fs, 
And  how  Th'  Observer  woul>        riddles  speak ; 

And  what  lucubration 

"With  illustrations, 
Would  ilhimo  tho  columns  of  Once  a  Week: 

"  Now  my  suggestion 

AVill  avoid  all  question 
Of  a  lady's  honor,  I'm  sartiu'  sure  : 

Let  her  repair,  Sir, 

To  some  back  stair,  Sir, 
Kear  the  posthern-gato — '^ulr/o,  tho  back-door- 

Of  your  castle  sphndid. 

Where  she'll  be  attiudod 
By  fifteen  vargins  of  beauty  bright, 

And  you  may  i\  .  d, 

Like  the  Barber  of  Seville, 
That  coortyer  famous  and  ladies'  knight 


Now  here  the  Bard 

Dhraws  his  breath  so  hard 
At  this  bowld  ascent  up  Parnassus  Hill, 

That,  to  win  your  smile, 

He  would  rest  awhile, 
<       slai  0  his  thirst  in  Castalia's  rill. 

F  fresli'd  thereby, 

lie  will  proudly  thry. 
In  the  second  fytte,  to  record  such  deeds 

As  far  surpasses 

Owld  Halicaiii  issus, 
Historic  craving  who  so  ami)ly  feeds. 


72 


POKTin.M.  U'onhs  or  sA.h.-hi  i/tvKH, 


FYTTE    Tin;    SrcoMI. 

Now  Tiir<rosins,  suiitk'n 

Like  soiiK!  foolisli  kittoii 
That  plrivs  (lelmllier'il  with  a  Rthrkir^'  and  cork, 

Of  the  8\veet  delusion 

Junip'd  the  conchision, 
And  to  Fox  ^r.iolscaohHn  he  phiy'd  The  Stork. 

For  the  divil  a  taste 

O""  a  dainty  waist 
Bid  the  I-n'sh  \duft  think  to  <,ave  the  Dane, 

iiut,  thron^^h  this  invintion, 

It  was  his  intintion 
The  hind's  rcdimption  for  to  ohtain. 

Turj^'esins  liome  went, 

And  not  a  moment 
Was  lost  in  suinmouinfif  a  l)owhl  (iftoen 

Of  scamps  he  cared  for, 

And  liien  prepared  for 
Such  f<  ist  of  love  as  they  had  seldom  seen. 

While  the  Irish  kiiir^  went, 

On  mortal  sting  bent. 
Among  the  pnrtiest  youths  his  coort  could  brag, 

Round  the  brimming  cup,  too, 

Saying,  "  What  are  you  up  to  ?— 
Have  you  the  pluck  Turgesius  fierce  to  lag?" 

"  And  no  mistake!"' 

Cried  eacli  beardless  rake. 
With  that  a  chest  of  ladies'  clothes  was  brought. 

And  with  bib  and  tucker. 

And  tlouTU'o  and  pucker, 
Thoy  w-tre  UMMsmogiilicil  as  quick  as  thon,,'ht. 


POETICAL   WOIiKS  or  SAMUEL  LOVKli.  79 

"Don't  Btli»-ido  HO  wide,  boys," 

Tho  kiii<j;  then  cried,  boya, 
"  And  keep  your  swoorda  undheruoatli  your  gown  ; 

Could  you  bido  your  swagger 

As  well  a.s^your  dagger, 
I'd  bo  prouder  of  it  than  half  a  crown. 

*'  But  why  so  meekly 

Of  half  crosvn  speak  we  ? 
We'll  win  a  ivhole  one  by  this  night's  work  I 

I'll  freely  bet  it, 

Our  fish  is  netted — 
Them  Northern  sharks ! — worse  than  pagan  Turk. 

Now  no  more  gostherin, 

But  to  tho  iiosthern 
Conduct  tho  Princess,  and  keep  her  snug ; 

Don't  look  too  bowld,  boys, 

Till  you  get  your  howld,  boys. 
Then  give  tho  tyrants  '  their  tay  in  a  mug !" 


But  'twas  not  tuy 

That  the  Dane  would  lay 
On  his  rampant  table,  that  night  to  hail ; 

In  the  chamber  upper 

Of  his  castle,  supper 
Was  laid  upon  a  most  extensive  scale. 

There  was  shins  of  beef, 

And  in  bowld  reUef — ■ 
(As  the  sculpthors  say — and  likewise  the  cooks) 

And — (rather  murky) — • 
A  pie  of  crows — meant  to  pass  for  rocks. 


u 


POETICAL  Ui.'KKS  OF  SAMVEL  LOVEIi. 


There  was  no  lack,  8i]-, 

Ofpuudiu'n  ])l;ick,  Sir, 
With  flour  Avell  dhredg'tl,  in  a  goodly  row, — 

They  cut  .such  figure 

As  niiglit  a  iii'j-n-cv 
■\Vho  had  lately  pass'd  t.'.iongh  a  storm  o'  snow  ; 

There  was  bacon  r.isliers, 

"With  eggs  for  thatcher.s. 
And  thripe  and  eowheel,  with  ingyan  sauce, 

And  other  dishes — 

That  famed  Apieius, 
If  he  was  there,  would  have  had  no  loss. 


With  latch  half-raised, 

And  the  hinges  grazed 
Of  the  sly  back-door,  to  prevent  a  creak, 

That  no  sharp  senthry 

Might  mark  the  cnthry 
Of  the  gentle  vargins  with  ]>lu«hin'  cheek, 

Turgesius,  waitin' 

At  the  little  g-ratin'. 
To  watch  their  coniin'  himself  did  stav. 

And  when  they  carne,  sure, 

With  tindher  liamc,  sure. 
He  said,  "  Yt)u'r(;  wclkim  as  the  llow'rs  in  Ishiy  I" 


%^ 


Through  crannies  crooked, 

In  many  a  nook  hid, 
Turgesius  layding,  away  they  goes, 

And  along  tlio  passages 

The  smell  of  sassigos 
Was  mighty  plazin'  to  (he  native  noso. 


POETICAL  WOliKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


7b 


low  ; 


And  one  young  lady 

(Call'd  Jack  O'Grady), 
A  great  admirer  of  that  luck  call'd  "pot," 

With  an  awful  sniftiier 

Alarm'd  each  sisthei*, 
And  very  nearly  bethray'd  the  plot. 


For  the  soundin'  snort 

Stopp'd  the  party  short, 
*'  AYhat  noise  is  that  ?"  tierce  Tui'gesius  said  ; 

When  the  Princess,  sweetly, 

Replied  discreetly, 
"  My  cousin  Onah's  got  a  cowld  in  her  head  ; 

'Tis  a  sevare  case, 

And  up  this  staircase 
A  blast  is  blowin'  might  turn  a  mill ; 

So  hurry  up,  sir. 

And  let  us  sup,  sir, 
For  our  walk  has  given  us  a  right  goodwill." 


ayl" 


"  Faix,  little  jew'l,  sure, 

You're  not  a  fool,  sure," 
Says  fond  Turgesius,  in  a  loving  tone  ; 

"  You're  in  the  nick,  dear. 

Of  time, — so  quick,  dear. 
Pick  your  steps  u^-stairs,  and  then  pick  a  bone  j 

And  to  wet  your  whistle 

I've  a  purty  dhrizzle 
Of  mountain-dew  as  did  e'er  impearl 

Thb  Ho'vv'rs  of  fancy, 

Which  best  we  can  see 
With  a  jug  o'  punch  and  :»,  purty  girl  1 " 


I 


76  I'OETWAL   WORKS  Or   t^A^lUKL  LOVKH. 

Now  the  Danes  were  dbrinkiu*, 

Their  cans  loud  cUukiu', 
Auticipatiu'  Love's  couiedie, 

While  the  J/a/(;poinenes 

(The  Irish  homines) 
Were  just  as  aiger  for  the  thragedid. 

They  soon  did  clamber 

1\)  the  festal  chamber, 
Where  the  dhrunkeu  Danes  was  at  jinks  so  high, 

And  with  shouts  did  greet 

These  youjig  vargins  sweet, 
Who  ciTrtsheed  low  with  a  downcast  eyo. 


I   .{ 


The  Diincs  advanoin' 

With  saucy  glancin', 
E'.tch  of  a  maiden  would  make  a  prize. 

But  the  hng  he  got 

Made  *.  ich  dhrunkcn  sot 
To  open  first — and  then  close  his  eyes! 

For,  to  the  hilt, 

W^ith  a  home-tlirusfc  kilt, 
Each  Dane  was  spitted  in  a  minute's  space, 

And  the  Clai'gy  boasted 

They'd  all  bo  roasted 
In  pi'oper  time,  iu  the  proper  place. 


For  the  Bishop  stepp'd  iu 

As  Maolscachlin  leap'd  in. 
With  a  hundhred  soj(n'K  in  steel  complate,— 

For  one  Tim  Kilc-y 

(Of  the  vargins),  slily 
Stole  back  and  opcn'd  the  postheni-gate. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  tiAMUEL  LOVllR. 

The  Danes  tlioy  leatber'd, 

And  Turgesius  tetlier'd, 
Like  a  calf  for  luai'kot,  by  neck  and  lieels, 

And  exposed  iiiin  proudly 

Next  day,  while  loudly 
The  joy-bells  clatther'd  in  merry  peals. 

The  Danes,  dishearten'd, 

Their  movements  smarten'd, 
To  run  away  "  while  their  shoes  were  good,** 

With  sail  and  oar,  too, 

From  Erin's  shore — Whoo ! — 
They  made  the  most  of  that  morniu's  flood  ; 

The  tetiior'd  king 

Did  the  Irish  bring- 
To  special  thrial,  to  lind  a  way 

The  best  for  kilhn' 

So  great  a  viliin, 
"When  ev'i'y  talker  had  his  word  to  say. 


7? 


The  paviours,  gronin', 

Proposed  a  Htonin" ; 
The  gamblers  wish'd  to  choose  his  death  by  lot ; 

The  hangman's  hop© 

Was  the  good  owld  rope. 
While  the  soiers  shouted  to  have  him  shot. 

Some  wish'd  to  starve  him, 

As  riglit  'twould  sarvc  him 
Who  st  rved  the  Irish  through  his  evil  days, 

And  the  larned  r'l-op.if  k 

Cried  "Lextalionis!" 
But  that  Latin  suitiuco  did  not  seem  to  pliize. 


78 


rOETlCAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


Some  gentle  Qaalccrs, 

"Who  were  colli u-makers, 
Proposed  to  bury  the  Dane  aUve  : 

They  would  not  kill, 

And,  wlio  had  tlie  will, 
Though  screw'd  down  tight,  to  get  out  might  sthrive. 

If  he  could  get  out, 

Whicli  they  much  did  doubt 
'Gainst  his  future  doings  they  could  say  "nay  ;" 

And  tliis  proceeding, 

While  it  spared  all  bleeding. 
Would  r^uiet  keep  him  for  many  a  day. 


i    i 


But  Maolseachlin,  wiser 

Than  each  deviser. 
Cried,  "  Let  me  say  how  the  Dane  should  die. 

From  stJu'ongest  dhrink,  boys, 

He  ne'er  would  shrink,  boys. 
And  the  luo:  j  he  dlirank  he  the  more  was  dhry. 

Now  hear  my  plan,  boys  : 

To  ev'iy  man,  boys, 
Who's  never  happy  except  when  dhrunk. 

The  direst  slaughter 

Is  to  die  by  wather  : 
So  let  Turgesius  in  the  sai  be  sunk !  " 


The  Dane  was  dhrownded, 

And  ]\Iaolscachlin  crowned 
Upon  the  sjiot,  by  the  Bishop's  grant, 

On  lEaolsaachlin's  poll  he, 

As  monarcli  solely 
Of  Ireland  all,  m  goold  crown  did  plant. 


ii^K^'li- kJ*.-i^. 


FOETICAL   WORKS   OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


79 


it  sthrive. 


He  first  assoil'd  him, 

And  then  lie  oil'd  him, 
To  slip  him  aisy  through  his  future  reign  ; 

With  oaths  then  probed  him, 

And  then  he  robed  him — 
Och!  the  hke  I'm  sure  -will  ne'er  be  seen  again! 


fiy 


hry. 


And  now  I've  iiulid 

This  record  splindid 
Of  the  Maidkx  ^Masque,  which  success  did  crown  ; 

'Twas  the  grandest  lesson 

(By  all  coufessin') 
That  e'er  proceeded  from  cup  and  gown  1 

The  king's  bright  daughther — 

Sweet  cause  of  slaughther — 
By  monarchs  coortcd  both  high  and  low, 

Made  a  right  good  marriage, 

And  kep'  her  carriage, 
And  all  this  pass'd  a  thousand  years  ago. 


And  so  my  song — since 

It  is  so  long  since 
That  airly  date — it  might  come  to  pass 

That  scribes  persuadin' 

May  be  mislaydin', 
For  fact  is  fadin',  as  flesh  is  grass. 

While  lies  engendhers, 

Through  false  pretendhers. 
Patching  Clio's  robe  with  their  figments  new, 

So  the  tale  forogoiu' 

There  is  no  knowin' 
But  not  a  word  of  the  same  is  thrue. 


80 


yOKTU  Al.    ]\i,l:l<S   ny  SAMCKf.    1,()VKI{. 


FALCON    LEIGH. 


1       li 


In  a  hoyisli  y-a<^q  to  roam, 
Eeoklosxly  I  Hod  from  home, 
But  whither  should  my  footsteps  bead, 
What  mifi^ht  cliancc  to  be  the  end 
Of  the  vit.L>:r!iut  outbvealc,  ne'er 
Heart  or  niiini  !i;iii  wish  or  care. 
Heedkisis  rambler  I  became, 
iJnt,  to  wuniid  a  noble  name, 
That  I  would  not  : — so  the  pagA 
Rich  in  a  lofty  lineage 
Stainless  is,  whate'er  my  .shame. 
For  tilt!  I^ovor  chniigeii  iiis  name. 

Was  the  Eovcr  hai-)py? — Yes, 
In  that  sort,  of  happiness 
License  aii-.i  iioi  bloootl  engender, 
Till  tiie  reason  inahes  surrender, 
And  the  tyrant  will  commands 
f^onl  and  body — heart  and  hands. 


I 


Lustily  I  join'd  the  cheer 

Of  the  eager  Buccaneer, 

When,  from  topmast  first  descried, 

"Ti:u!n  '  "  exiiltingly  v,"as  cried  : 

I'or  aroiiiul  the  tropic  isles 

Fortuuf  on  tlie  llovf'r  smiles. 


POETICAL   WUlih'S  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

Where  Galleon,  deep  in  freight' 
Of  merchantlise  aiul  "piece  of  eight" 
To  the  Buccaneer  must  strike 
lu  conflict  close  of  boarding-pike. 


81 


!• 


Lovely  were  \\\ '.  Ti-opic  isles — 

We  had  more  tliaii  Fortune's  smiles, 

For  the  iil-got  gold  to  spill 

In  ])rofusion,  vicious  still, 

Was  our  wont — and  golden  show'rs 

Harvests  bring  of  gleesonie  hours  : — 

(jrleesonie  hours  that  cost  us  years 

Of  after  shame,  remorse,  and  .tears. 


'Twas  in  one  remoter  place 

Where  the  wild  uutuior'd  grace 

Of  nature  and  of  woman  n  ign'd, 

That  a  milder  moo;!  we  feigu'd, 

Laid  our  ship  down  to  careen, 

Safe  within  tlu;  leafy  screen 

Of  a  richly- wooded  creek  : — 

There,  in  safety,  might  we  seek 

Brief  reT»ose,  iintil  again 

The  bar':,  rjpair'd,  should  cleave  the  main. 

A  lovelv  and  unvrarhkc  xo.c.c. 
Dwelt  in  that  sequt  3t('"'d  i)laco, 
W'hose  forests  deep  oi.  -i  u  um  'piiet 
Repress'd  the  very  thouj;h    of  riot. 
How  the  sultry  solitude 
While  it  yielded  joy,  subdued  ! 
All  that  fruits  of  tropic  splendor 
To  the  parched  throat  could  render, 


82 


I'OEIWAL   WORKS  OF  iSAMUKL  LOVEJi. 


All  thiit  frti^viint  shade  could  yield 
From  the  torrid  lioiit  to  shield, 
Gave  a  sort  of  drowsy  pleasure 
We  indulged  in  without  measure. 
Gorgeous  shrubs  of  a  arious  dye 
In  wild  profusion  charm'd  the  eye, 
Bright  birds  flitted  thro'  their  stems, 
Like  a  flight  of  v/inged  gems, 
But  voiceless  all — as  tho'  they  chose 
Not  to  break  the  sweet  repose. 


Such  a  reign  of  beauty  round  us, 
In  a  soft  eiJthantment  bound  us, 
And  the  magic  of  that  spot 
Tempted  me  to  leave  it  not — 
But  the  soft  temptation  pass'd  : — 
'Twas  my  fate  !— my  lot  I  cast 
With  the  vicious  and  the  vile — 
Could  /  ever  hope  to  smile  ? 
Laugh  I  might — the  empty  laugh 
Of  ribald  revelers  while  they  quaflf, 
But  the  smile  that  sweetly  tells 
The  joy  that  in  the  bosom  dwells, 
Never,  never,  may  appear 
On  thq  lip  of  Buccaneer ! 


Off  and  on  we  came  to  seek 
Shelter  in  our  favorite  creek, 
With  some  dashing  cruise  between 
The  visits  to  our  leafy  screen. 
Tho'  I  never  chose  to  brair 
Of  our  dreaded  Sable  Flag, 


POKTKAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


83 


Still,  tLat  terror  of  the  luahi 
Never  brought  my  bosom  pain  } 
Never  in  the;  hoaJy  lij^ht 
Did  my  torpid  conscience  smite  ; 
Hand  to  hand,  and  shot  for  shot, 
Good  as  that  \\q  gave,  we  got ; 
Tliat  I  Hincl    '  not  from  ;— but  when 
The  councils  ticrco  of  murd'rous  men 
In  dov'lish  mood,  brought  torture  dark 
AVithin  their  hellish  code,  the  spark 
Of  pity  that  so  long  had  slept 
Into  a  Ilanie  of  fury  leapt, 

* 

And  scorched  my  heart  to  madness ! — I 
Denounc'd  such  felon  infamy 
With  scathing  words— till  many  a  knife 
"Was  brandish'd  'gainst  my  threaten'd  life  ; 
I  brav'd  them  all— shot  down  the  chief  ; 
And  then,  with  'passion'd  speed — more  brief 
Than  words  that  tell  it— headlong  gave 
My  body  to  the  surging  wave. 
Swift  as  I  swam,  the  bullets  swifter 
Came  i)elting  round  : — a  deadly  snifter  ! 
But  harmlessly  the  bullets  sped — 
'Tis  a  small  mark,  a  swimmer's  head — • 
Ere  long  the  leaden  storm  was  o'er. 
And,  nearly  spent,  I  rcach'd  the  shore. 


How  I  did  the  snake  escape 
In  the  densely-tangled  brake, 
How  the  alligator  pass 
TliiO  the  troacuerc-us  morass. 
And  the  panther  in  his  lair, 
Marvellous  to  teU  it  were, 


84 


pnHTlVM.    ',V<.l:Us    •  >f  SA  \l C i:/.    I.OlhN. 


But  v;iin  the  wondrous  lalo  -siifUce, 
I  struck  the  cuawt  In-  Barcobico 
(One  of  tlu!  fabled  Kl  Dorados), 
And  found  a  bnrk  hound  to  Barbadocs. 


Ou  board — aud  'bt-upcd  thu  danger  ("ii-eaa 
That  hung  arouiid  ni-.i— iny  poor  head 
Gave  wav  io  fovor'.s  racking-  raid— 
B3'  turns  J  curs'd,  by  turns  I  pray'd  ; 
In  diirksonio  (bcjun  I  s:i\y  (he  mock 
Old  visage  cf  tli-  ■j:nn>\  Cacique 
fn  placid  (•oiu'ii;4'.'  nil  uuuiov'tl, 
"While,  murdeiM  i-ound  him,  those  he  lov'iL 
And  tlitn  a  lovelier  face  would  seem 
To  watch  me  in  my  troubled  droani  ; 
But  soon  Cacique  and  Princess  ilew 
O'er  seas  of  blcjod  in  swift  canoe, 
And  when  T  woke,  a  cherub  face, 
Ilesplfudent  with  its  mother's  graces 
ISly  languid  eye  iii'aeld  with  joy — 
Yes! — I  liad  saved  niv  darling  bov! 


Pays  we  o'er  some  gaps  of  tinu^ ; 

I  bad  fled  the  tropic  clime, 

Had  seen  (unknown)  my  natal  hall, 

Silent  and  desolated  all, 

Tts  stalwart  sons  liad  Avithcr'd  fast, 

Of  all  its  race  I  was  the  last, 

And  strange  emotions  inly  burned 

Within  the  Prodigal  returned, 

And  early  lessons  crowding  came 

To  bow  my  harden'd  heart  to  shame  :-;- 


i'OKTlt     L  WOUi  ■>•     '/ 


\MiEL    1.0  VKU. 


85 


No  fall     ;■,  .,    .1  lor^'iviiig  cyo 
To  weop  ui)on  ray  /.ock  wiis  iii<,'h  ; — 
Ko — lio  liivd  died — nor  knt-'.v  his  son 
Eepi  ;ited  of  tlio  evil  dono. 

^ih      Id  I  the  builds     f  mystery  bursl 
And  prove  myself  tlic  heir? — At  first 
I  Hhrank  from  such  ordeal  dreud — 
Better,  by  far,  bo  rumorcl  "dead,*' 
Than  known  to  live,  and  li\  ^n^^  be 
The  mark  of  odious  ublu(|u\  .    - 
For  rumors  o'(;r  the  sea  had  si)ed 
Of  wicked  life  by  Rover  led  ■ 
Oh !  when  did  rumor  ever  fai 
To  propagate  an  ugly  tale  I 

Still,  for  my  boy's  sako  to  retain 

My  lineal  rights,  whate'er  the  pain 

To  me,  was  .luty  ;— so  I  gave 

All  scruple  to  the  ^\iuds— and  bravo 

In  love  parental — forth  I  stood. 

And  needed  all  my  hardihood, 

To  meet  the  looks  of  dull  suspicion, 

The  jeering  lip  of  cold  derision, 

"When  in  the  open  Court  I  sued 

Before  the  Bench,  my  rights  of  blood. 

jNEethought  a  sickening  echo  sped 

Throughout  the  hall  when  "  blood  "  I  said  ; 

Or  were  they  many  whispers  vile 

That  hiss'd  the  word  thro'  scoffing  smile? 

Deep  was  the  shai^    apon  the  brow 
Of  the  stern  Judge,  in  asking  how 


I 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


m 
m 
m 


III  2.8 

I  3.2 
113.6 

114.0 


1.4 


II  2.5 

12.2 

2.0 
1.8 


1.6 


A     ^PPLiED  IM/IGE     Ir 


'B'j3   East   Mam   Street 
Rochester,    New   York         14609       USA 
'Ifi    AS?  -  0300  -  Phone 
■       .'88  -  5989  -  Fax 


86 


rOETlCM.   WOUKS   OF  SAMVKL  l.OVEli. 


I  tlarc  iidveiitin'c  ohiim  fur  one 

All  unentitled,  tlio'  my  son  ; 

No  proof  of  marriage  rite  I  gave — 

The  ancient  line  of  Falcon  Leigh 

Might  never  rejireseutetl  be 
By  offspring  of  some  Indian  slave. 

High  swell'd  my  heart — and  forth  I  said 
"  Simple  the  rite  by  which  I  wed 
No  Indian  slave — no  menial  thing, 
My  bride  was  daugliter  of  a  king, 
The  Princess  of  a  distant  coast  : — ■ 
No  Christian  rite,  'tis  true,  they  boast 
III  that  far  land  ; — but  simply  taking 
Each  other'i?  hand  is  marriage-making. 
And  sj^rinkled  llow'i's  a!)ovo  tlie  head, 
Declare  the  pligiitcd  ]ov(m-s  wed  : — 
The  rite  is  iill-sii'ru'iciii,  .sure, 
AVhich  custom  in  cacJi  laud  makes  pure, 
And  ne'er  bcn^ie  caliiedral  slu'ine 
Was  marri;ige  vow  more  pure  than  mine! 


Then  did  a  shout  indignant  burst 
Throughout  the  hall. — "  He  is  accurst !  " 
The  crowd  exclaim'd  :  "  In  Pagan  lands 
He  has  abjur'd  his  God's  commands. 
And  here  a  Christian  people  braves 
With  impious  v/ords!  " — The  lifted  staves 
Of  the  Court's  officers  alone, 
Preserv'd  my  life  from  staff  and  stone. 
And,  'midst  the  uproar  wild,  a  cry 


111 


mg  in  my  ears,  "  Fly,  father,  lly ! 


rOETICM.   WORKS   OF  SAMUEL   LOVEli. 


87 


It  was  my  boy's — liow  caino  he  there 
I  knew  not— but  his  childish  in-ay'r 
Imparted  childisli  fear  to  me — 
Sooner  I'd  dared  and  died,  than  flee 
Th'  ignoble  crowd  before  he  spoke, 
But  now,  parental  fear  awoke 
Within  my  heart  for  that  dear  child, 
Amidst  a  multitude  so  wild  ; 
I  clasp'd  him  close  and  rush'd  away, 
Lest  his  young  life  should  fall  a  prey 
To  the  demoniac  crowd,  whose  yell 
Rang  in  my  ears  like  blasts  from  hell. 
Forth  thro'  a  secret  panel,  known 
To  few  but  me,  we  swiftly  passed. 
Behind  me  a  fierce  curse  I  cast 
Upon  the  mob,  whoso  prey  was  llown  ; 
My  shallop's  topsail  caught  the  wind, 
Laden  with  shouts  of  foes  behind. 
But  less  and  less  the  outcry  grow 
As  o'er  the  lake  the  shallop  flew. 

.Straight  for  Skalkragga's  isle  I  steer'd, 

It  was  a  spot  devoutly  fear'd ; 

Of  evil  fame — although  to  me 

In  boyhood  known  familiarly 

(For  I  was  ever  prone  to  run 

To  wild  adventure  others  shun). 

And  hi  that  isle,  above  the  flood 

In  stalagmitic  grandeur  stood 

A  cavern  deep  of  ample  dome, 

A  fitting  spot  for  outlaw's  home, 

For,  known  to  few,  'twas  seldom  ncar'd, 

And  by  the  few  'twas  known,  'twas  fear'd. 


88 


roKlKjAL    Works   of  SaMVKI.    I.oVKU. 


So  fear'tl,  so  dark,  so  lone  a  place, 
Well  suited  was  t(3  blink  a  chase  ; 
There  all  iinhann'd  the  wild  fowl  Hew, 
There  all  iinstjeii  the  lilies  grew 
In  cloister'd  beauty  on  the  wave 
That  rippled  t^irough  that  lonely  cave, 
While  lofty  ruslies  rose  between, 
And  made  an  ample  waving  screen 
Whicli,  as  it  rustled  to  the  wind, 

Whisper'd  of  safety  and  repose 
To  hunted  fugitive  who'd  lind 

A  shelter  sure  from  furious  foes, 
So,  thro'  the  thangled  flowery  zone 
I  burst  into  that  cavern  lone. 
There,  passion-torn  and  sore  distress'd, 
My  lov'd  child  clasping  to  my  breast, 
Lull'd  by  the  ripples  of  the  deep, 
Exhausted  I  lay  down  to  sleep. 


But  not  for  long  was  slumber  granted. 
On  ray  shoulder  roughly  laid 
A  hand  awoke  me  ; — for  my  blade 
I  vainly  grasp'd,  and  struggling  panted, 
An  Amazon  it  v/as  Avho  broke 
My  spell  of-  sleep,  and  thus  she  spoke — 
(Strange  words  to  faU  frou         iity's  daughter), 
"  Sir,  I  have  brought  your  sn.  v mg-water. 
Get  up  at  once  or  you'll  bo  latt, 
The  train  you  go  by  loaves  at  eight." 


POETICAL  WOliKS  OF  :<AMUKL   LOVER. 


89 


NO  FOLLOWEllR. 


What's  the  hardest  of  all  things  to  follow  ? 

An  ostrich,  I'm  told,  tries  our  mettle  ; 
But  there's  something  that  beats  that  quite  hollow 

As,  in  singing,  a  lark  beats  a  kettle. 


A  chamois,  they  say,  's  not  a  trifle 

In  steep  Alpine  passes  to  follow, 
But  a  chamois  you'll  "  down  "  with  a  rifle, 

There's  that  beats  the  chamois  quite  hollow. 


A  fox  is  a  puzzle  sometimes. 

That  baffles  the  best  in  n  chase  ; 

Or,  sound-led  by  far-away  chimes, 
One  wanders  a  wearisome  pace. 

A  lady's  a  hard  thing  to  follow 
Coquettish  and  full  of  vagaries, 

Who  feeds  you  with  snubs,  hard  to  swallow, 
And  acts  by  "  the  rule  of  contraries." 


To  follow  professional  starving. 
Is  very  hard  following,  I  guess. 

Yet  harder  than  mere  want  of  carving 
Is  the  thing  on  your  notice  I  press. 


90 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


"•rg 


To  follow  a  Nimrocl  is  hard, 

AVhen  plashing  thi-oiigh  puddles  yoii  spaiik  it ; 
Or  to  follow  a  lead,  when  the  card 

Is  not  in  your  hand — the  deuce  thank  it. 

And  I've  heard  that  a  flea  in  a  blanket 

Is  a  very  hard  matter  to  follow  ; 
And  very  hard  driving  they  rank  it 

A  certain  brute,  given  to  wallow. 

'Tis  hard  in  a  Hansom,  to  ride 

Behind  a  huge  van,  till  you  swear, 
Stuck  fast  in  a  jam  in  Cheapside, 

While  you're  anxious  to  reach  Grosv'nor-square. 

I  know  many  hard  things  to  do  : 

'Tis  hard,  when  you're  wrong'd,  to  say  "  thankee," 
'Tis  hard  to  bamboozle  a  Jew — 

But  very  much  harder,  a  Yankee. 

And  hard  'tis  to  take  up  your  bills 

Without  money  ;   and  hard  to  get  credit 

When  your  riiilnr(!  the  newspapers  fills, 
And  all  your  acquaintance  have  read  it. 

'Tis  then  hard  to  follow,  I  grant, 

The  remains  of  a  wealthy  relation, 
Who  has  left  his  "  own  people  "  in  want. 

And  his  millions  has  willed  to  the  nation. 

But  I  see  you  are  wearied  with  guessing, 

I'll  tell  you  what  'tis  and  be  done, 
Perplexity's  always  distressing, 

So  here  is  the  answer,  my  son  : 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVKU. 


91 


Of  ial  thiiif^s  we  know,  .i';rcat  or  small, 
111  sea  or  iu  air,  hill  or  hollow, 

On  this-here  terrestrial  ball, 

Good  advice  is  the  hardest  to  follow. 


A  FATAL   UNION. 


Wind  of  the  West,  that  gently  blows, 
Filling  the  sail  that  freely  llo^vs  ; 
Wind  of  the  South,  whose  breath,  more  soft. 
Tempts  the  white  canvas  wings  aloft, — 

Each  friendly  gale 

Can  till  the  sail 

Of  bark  that  bends 

Towards  home  and  friends  ; 
But,  blended  both,  how  fierce  the  blast ! 
Then  rent  the  sail— chen  riv'n  the  mast ! 

The  sparkling  waves 
That  onward  bore 

Are  turned  to  graves, 
And  friends  deplore  : — 
Ye  South  and  West,  apart  how  kind  1 
But  oh !  how  merciless  combin'd  1 


02 


rOKTICAL   \\OJU<S  OF  SAMUKL  LOVEli. 


AVPtlTTEN   IN   THE    SAND. 


"'  Tis  writ  ill  sand,"  a  ouneiit  plinise  lias  pass'J 
To  stigmatise  some  work  tbat  will  not  iast  : 
And  yet  a  phrase  preceptive,  which  nuist  stund 
While  Christendom  endures,  was  writ  in  saiu'. 

When  Scribes  and  Pharisees  to  Jesiis  brought 

The  erring  woman,  and  a  judgment  sought, 

Kager  to  punish,  the  unthinking  throng. 

Would,  each  and  all,  have  struck  to  avenge  the  wrong. 

But  to  the-  test  the  Holy  Teacher  brought 
The  throng  unthinking,  by  awaking  thought ; 
Writ  in  the  sand  the  challenge  thus  was  thrown, 
"  Who's  sinless,  llrst  be  his  to  cast  the  stone." 

Thus  conscience-stricken,  each  withheld  his  hand  : 
O  glorious  Scripture  !  Memorable  sand ! 
Tablet  of  heavenly  mercy  !  Still  in  thee 
Let  us  for  ever  a  memento  see. 


O,  Where's  the  Christian  that  can  look  on  sana 
Without  remembering  the  Divine  command  ? 
Be  it  the  desert  vast  he  struggles  o'er, 
Or  mighty  margin  of  the  sounding  shore, 

Or  sandy  hollow  in  the  fir-crowned  hill. 
The  atoms  eloquent  admonish  still  ; 
Even  the  liumblest  hour-glass  has  the  pow'r, 
To  tell  Christ'^  lesHon  wliilc  it  tcILs  the  hour ! 


POKTICAL  WO  UK'S  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


93 


THE    POET'S    HOME. 


Mark  y(inil(;r  cot,  arnonpf  the  trees, 

Where  flow'rs  in  native  freedom  twine, 
Wliose  fra:-;-rance  courts  the  healthy  breeze 

That  sheds  around  their  scent  divine. 
"NVithiu  that  humble  cot  thou'lt  find 

IMore  pow'r  than  dwells  'neath  gilded  dome  ; 
The  wealth  of  wit,  the  pow'r  of  mind, 

For  there  behold  a  poet's  home. 

While  counted  gold,  'neath  bolt  and  bar, 

To  hide  from  all  the  miser  tries, 
The  poet's  wealth— more  precious  f.ir — 

In  open  page,  uncounted  lies. 
The  pearls  of  thought,  the  mental  ore, 

By  fancy's  fire  to  gold  refin'd, 
The  poet  makes  no  hidden  store. 

But  shares  his  wealth  with  all  mankind. 

Then  wealth,  and  pomp,  and  pow'r  give  way, 

And  warriors  bold  with  flag  unfurl'd  ; 
A  king  can  but  one  nation  sway — 

The  poet's  rule  is  o'er  the  world  ! 
Then  honor  bo,  wilhout  a  blot, 

Around  his  path  where'er  he  roam, 
But  where  he  loves  and  wanders  not 

Bo  blessings!— on  the  ])oet's  home. 


I 


04 


I'OKTKWn  WOltKS  OF  SAMUKT,  LOVKH. 


SOMETHING    WORTH    HAVING. 


To  liave  tlic  sure  esteem 

Of  those  whoso  worth  wo  Icuow, 
The  lieart  will  oft  redeem 

From  many  a  doubtful  throe  ; 
The  anxious  soul  declares 

Some  good  musi  be  in  ms, 
Or,  by  such  souls  as  theirs 

"We  were  not  valued  thus. 


"When  brimming  cups  go  round, 

When  friendly  faces  meet, 
"Where  jest  and  smile  abound, 

Oh,  if  we  there  may  meet 
Such  long-tried  friend  of  years 

To  share  with  us  the  wine — 
'Tis  nectar  then — and  cheers 

"With  influence  divine ! 


Or,  if  oppress'd  with  care 

Or  sickness,  low  we  lie, 
"What  med'cine  can  compare 

"With  friendship's  love-lit  eye  ? 
One  fond  plain  EngHsh  word 

More  cheers  our  suffering  man 
Than  all  the  pomp  absurd 

Of  doctor's  Latin  can. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEIt. 

Oh,  bliss  liow  bright,  how  rare, 

Where  friend  hke  this  iippears, 
With  smiles  our  joy  to  share, 

Or  share  our  grief  with  tears  : 
To  have  this,  is  to  win 

From  out  our  earthly  strife 
The  brightest  jewel  in 

That  croion  of  thorm—callcd  life  ! 


95 


A   CHRISTMAS    ODE    TO    THE    GOOSE. 


The  eaole,  sov'reign  of  the  skies, 
Let  others  sing,  with  praise  profuse, 

More  justly  shall  my  lay  arise 
In  grateful  homage  to  the  Goose. 

Dill  flesh  of  eagle  ever  gi-ace 

A  feast  throughout  the  whole  year's  cycle  ? 
While  goose  at  Christmas  holds  proud  place, 

And  favor  finds  with  great  St.  Michael. 

And  was't  the  bird  of  Jove  whose  cries 
Saved  Jove's  own  temple  from  the  foe  ? 

I^o  : — 'twas  the  goose  that  made  the  noise 
And  let  Rome's  guards  the  danger  know. 

So  thus,  the  ^  )ose  high  place  may  claim 

In  cause  doixiestio  ov  heroic, 
In  this  she  holds  a  classic  fame. 

In  that,  her  claiux  might  move  a  stoic. 


I 


06  VDKTIC.XL   WDIiKS  OF  S.\Mlfi:L  LOVER. 

In  Rnnriii'j'  oontost  for  tho  Kky 
Tho  eiiglo  otisily  W(^iiKl  bctit  lier, 

Jiiit,  qodsc,  in  (jnostion  of  " tiupply," 
AN'omM  win  :  -  lUMJoritics  \vt)ul(l  cat  I'or. 


Tho  cagl<!  liii.s  a  holdiT  lioarfc 

And  wiiij,',  ti)  KC'orn  tho  hunter's  quiver, 
But, — oh! — upon  tii(^  other  part, 

Just  think  ni)()u  tho  goose's  hver  ! 

Conlil  Strasbourg'  liold  her  point  of  pride 

Upon  tlui  apex  of  her  steophj? 
No  I — jiiile/oic  grnx  h:is  su])phf'd 

Her  source  of  ,L.dor_v  to  most  people. 

And  then  tho  diners,  "  greatly  darhig," 
"NViio  gori^-e  on  goose  at  mighty  feast, 

And  prove  (for  decency  uncaring) 
A  bird  can  niiike  a  man  a  btuist. 

A)id  after  tho  profu.so  repast, 

IlVi'W!  f(iatliers  make  tho  needful  bed? 

And  (on  tho  pliant  pillow  cast) 

Whom;  down  supports  tho  aching  head? 

"Why,  lliiiu!,  brave  goose,  whoso  double  dower 
Of  savory  moat  and  ample  feather 

Supplies,  in  plenitude  of  power, 
The  ailment  and  tlio  cure  together. 

So,  let  the  Goose  be  honor'd  all 

Tliroughout  the  future,  past,  and  present, 
And  ever  grace  my  Christmas  hall ! !  ! — 

(Uiilesii  (ioKio  friend  should  send  a  pheasant.) 


roicncAL  nunKs  or  >.\Mii:h  ujvku. 


U7 


THE    CROOKED    STICK. 


Julia  was  iovely  aiul  winning— 

And  Jiiliiv  had  lovers  in  plenty, 
They  outmirabei-'d  her  years 
More  than  twice,  it  appears — 

She  kill'd  fifty  before  she  was  twenty. 

Young  Harry 

Had  asked  her  to  marry  ; 

But  Julia  could  never  tlocide, 

Thus  early,  on  being  a  bride  ; 

"With  such  ample  choiccj, 

She  would  not  give  her  voice. 

In  wedlock  so  soon  to  bo  tied  ; 
And  though  she  liked  Hal,  thought  it  better  to  wait, 
Before  she  would  finally  fix  on  her  fate  ; 
For  though  Harry  was  "  every  way  worthy  "  to  get  her, 
rerliajys  she  miyht  sec  some  one  else  she  liked  better. 

Hal,  discarded  by  Venus,  went  over  to  Mars ; 

And  set  off  to  the  war  in  a  troop  of  hussars ; 

To  sabres  and  bullets  exposing  a  Ufe 

jNIade  wretched  to  him  by  the  want  of  a  wife. 

But  Death  would  not  take  what  fair  JuHa  refused  ; 

And,  in  fact,  Harry  thought  himself  veiy  ill  used 

By  "Death  and  the  Lady,"— till  Time's  precious  ointment 

Cured  the  M^ound  Julia  made, 

And  the  soldier's  buid  biudo 
Soon  won  him  a  colonel's  appointment  ; 


98 


rOKTJCAL    Hf7/.'A',',   CF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


And  then  ho  went  honio,  by  Imnl  service  made  sager 
And  found  Julia  had  married  a  ,vello\v  old  major. 

For  the  sake  of  ^vd  tiiu(;.s,  Harry  called  on  the  lady, 
Who  was  now  on  Hint  side  of  //)/.s  life  they  call  "shady  ;" 
"Which,  though  pleasant  iii  bdcets,  in  the  summer's  bright 

HI  in, 
On  life's  path  is  not  pleasant — when  summer's  all  done. 
He  took  her  hand  kindly — inid  liopcd  she  was  well — 
And  looked  with  a  tender  regret  on  liis  'belle  ! 
"Ah  !  Julia  !  how's  tliis? — I  wordd  not  give  you  pain. 
But  I  think  I  m;iy  ask,  witliout  being  thought  vain, 
How  the  girl  who  refused  to  let  Harry  encage  her, 
Could  consent  to  be  trapped  by  a  yellow  old  major '?" 
"  Come  dine  here,"  said  she—"  and  at  evening  we'll  take, 
On  horseback  a  ride  through  the  hazelwood  brake  ; 
And  as  I've  lost  my  whip— yon  must  go  to  the  wood, 
And  cut  me  a  riding  switch  handsome  and  g(X)d, — 
Something  nice— such  a  one  as  I'll  keep  for  your  sake. 
As  a  token  of  friendship  ;  but  pray  do  not  make 
Your  absence  too  long— for  avo  dine;,  sharp,  at  six  ; 
But  you'll  see,  before  then,  many  beautiful  sticks." 

Harry  went  on  this  mission,  to  rifle  the  riches 
Of  the  hazelwood  brake— and  saw  such  lovely  switches, 
But  noi.e  good  enough  to  present,  as  a  token. 
To  her  who,  "  lang  syne,"  had  his  burning  heart  broken  ; 
The  wood  was  passed  through— and  no  switch  yet  selected, 
When  "  six  o'clock,"  suddenly,  Hal  recollected, 
And  took  out  his  watch  :— but  ten  minutes  to  spare- 
He  employed  those  ten  minutes  with  scrupulous  care, 
But,  spite  of  his  pains— the  best  switch  ho  selected 
Did  not  equal,  by  much,  many  first  ho  rejected  ; 


rOETICAL  ]VOIlKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEIl. 


99 


O'er 


liady  ;" 
er's  bright 

(lone. 

11— 

»ain, 
'1, 

V  r 

'11  take, 

^  > 

0(1, 

sake, 


He  eye'tl  it  askance — and  he  bent  it — and  wliook  it— 
And  owned,  with  a  ahrug,  'twas  a  Iccfle  bit  crooked. 
Ho  returned,  and  told  Julia  the  state  of  the  case, 
"When  she — (a  faint  smile  lightiny  up  a  sad  face)  — 
Haid,  "  Harrv.  vouv  walk  through  the  hazelwood  brake 

'  4,-4.  IZJ 

Is  my  liiatory — a  lesson  that  many  might  take  ; 
At  lirst,  you  saw  beautiful  sticks  by  the  score, 
And  hoped  to  get  better,  ^Yith  such  '  plenty  more,' 
But  at  the  last  moment — no  time  left  to  pick — 
You  were  forced  to  put  up  with  a  crooked  slide." 

0  Woman ! — designed  for  the  conquest  of  hearts, 
To  your  own  native  cliarras  add  not  too  many  art.-^  ; 
It'  a  poet's  quaint  rhyme  might  dare  offer  advice, 
You  should  be  nice  all  over — but  not  OAXT-nice. 

1  don't  wish  a  lady  so  wondrously  quick 

As  to  sharpen  her  knife  for  the  very  first  stick  ; 

But — for  one  good  enougl      "t  were  best  not  o'erlook  it, 

Lest,  iu  seeking  too  straight  ones — you  get  but  the  crooked. 


:chos, 

roken  ; 
selcetetT, 

■e — 

d 


A    FACTION    FIGHT. 


The  first  time  I  went  to  a  fair 
I  s.aw  a  man  sthrceUa'  his  coat  in  the  gutther, 
With  a  shout  and  a  splutther, 

And  thought  it  was  quari? ; 
"  What's  that  for  ?  "  says  I  to  my  mother, 
Who  was  minding  both  me  and  my  brother. 


Mn'^mt^ 


lUO 


POETICAL   \V0I:KS  OF  SAMUEL   LoVKU, 


"Don't  YOU  see  it  was  out  of  that  tint  that  he  wint, 
■\yhei-o  all  the  MCarthys  is  dliriukin'  ho  gaily? 
And  than  and  th'  O'lMayley 

Is  never  contint 
Till  they  prove  to  each  other  their  merit : 
'Tis  a  proof,"  says  my  mother,  "of  xpcrit." 

Then  I  saw  a  man  rush  to  the  fray 
A.nd  stamp  on  that  coat  that  was  dragg'd  in  the  gutther  ; 
But  a  shutther 

Was  very  soon  call'd  for  to  take  liim  away, 
For  the  coat-sthreeler,  with  his  shillaley, 
Crack'd  the  crown  of  the  headstrong  O'Maylcy. 

But  other  0"]Mayleys  soon  gathor'd, 
And,  rattling  doAvn  swiftly,  the  cudgels  came  clusthering, 
^Vith  bhisthering, 

And  oaths  that  M'Carthy  for  ever  bo  nmalher'tl ! 
ind  in  mutual  defacing  "  God's  imacfe" 
Both  clans  had  a  darlin'  tine  scrimmage  ! 

"Well,  when  I  grew  up  to  a  man, 
[  copied  the  doin's  of  them  went  before  me 
[n  glory  ; 

But  I've  now  chang'd  my  plaj], 
''  For,"  says  I,  "  'tis  but  spoilin'  of  frieze 
For  gahiin'  sore  bones  and  black  eyes." 

And  my  Molly,  that  fondly  I  dote  on, 
She  used  to  complain  of  the  numberless  patches 
To  cover  the  gashes 

She  stitch'd  niv  Ion"*  coat  on  : 
So,  to  shun  all  temptation  to  racket, 
I  now  go  to  fairs  in  a  jacket. 


POETICAL  WOllK.'i  OF  .SAMUEL  LOYEll. 


101 


TO    MAEY. 


As  ill  the  calmest  day  the  pine-tree  gives 

A  soft  low  murmur  to  the  wooing  wind, 
"When  other  trees  are  silent — so  love  lives 
lu  the  close  covert  of  the  loftier  mind, 

Responding  to  the  gentlest  sigh  would  walce 
Love's  answer,  and  his  magic  music  make. 

'Twas  thus  I  woo'd  thee— softly  and  afraid  : 

For  no  rude  breath  could  win  response  from  thee, 
Mine  own  retiring,  timid,  bashful  maid  ; 
And  hence  I  dedicate  the  slender  tree 
To  dearest  memories  of  the  tenting  fine 
I  woo'd  thee  with— as  Zephyr  woos  the  pine. 

And  hence  I  love  with  thee  through  woods  to  wander, 

Whose  fairy  llowers  thy  slight  foot  scarcely  bends, 
Growing,  as  time  steals  o'er  us,  only  fonder, 
Following,  mayhap,  some  streamlet  as  it  tends 
To  a  lone  lake— full  as  our  hearts,  and  calm, 
O'er  which  the  op'ning  summer  sheds  its  balm. 

Soft  is  the  breeze  ;— so  soft— the  very  lake 

Hath  not  a  ripple  on  its  mirror  face  ; 
And  hence,  a  double  beauty  doth  it  make, 
Another  forest  in  its  depths  we  trace, 
The  sky's  repeated  in  reflected  kiss  ; — 
So  loving  hearts  can  double  ev'ry  blisa. 


^^^miw:-t 


102 


rOETlCAL   WOIiKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVER. 


The  sun  is  liigli — we  seek  refreshing  shade, 

Bencatli  the  piues  we  choose  a  ilowery  scat  : 
A-nd,  wliilo  a  whisiier  in  tlieir  bon^'li.s  is  made, 
Couehinj^-,  with  fondness,  at  thv  tiny  feet, 

rn  wliisper  Ihee,  while  shelteriiij^-  from  the  sun- 
"KSweet  Mary,  thus  I  woo'd  thee,  thus  I  won." 


YEAR  XING. 


Far  sliore,  far  shore— Aojo  far 

O'er  the  tide  of  Time  you  seem  ;— 
"Where  is  the  mystic  star 
To  j^-uide  o'er  the  waters  fai- — 

To  that  shore  of  my  fancy's  drearn  ? 

Far  shore,  far  shore,  on  thee 

Are  the  flowers  in  endless  bloom  ? 

Or  there  may  the  desert  be, 

AV'ith  the  deadly  Upas  tree, 
Where  the  seeker  but  finds  a  tomb  ? 

A  voice  from  the  deep  replied— 
"  Ask  noi;  what  lies  before— 

(Vain  wish,  by  Heaven  denied  ;) 

Tliy  bark  a  resistless  tide 
W  ill  bear,  as  it  Others  bore. 

Dream  not  of  shores  so  far, 

Heed  not  a  siren's  sono-. 
Seek  noi  for  ruystic  star — 
Trust  to  the  means  that  are — 

Be  thy  voyago  or  short,  or  long." 


I 


POETIVAL   WOUKS  Ob'  SAMCKL    LoVKll. 


10:5 


WHEllE    TO    GvO    TO. 


*'  Thkre  is  a  isle  in  the  British  Channel, 

Where  the}'-  goes  through  tlic  winter  v/ithout  flannel; 

If  you  doubt  of  what  I  tell  vers, 

Unbelievers,  go  to  Heliers." 


Thus  I  heard  a  vulgar  fellow, 
Shiv'ring  'neath  an  old  umbrella. 
In  a  sleet-show'r  sharp  and  chilly, 
Tell  his  friend  in  Piccadilly. 

He  was  right,  that  \-ulgar  fellow, 
'Neath  his  winter-worn  umbrella ; 
•*  Go  to  Heliers  "  is  a  dictum 
Well  addrcss'd  to  bronchial  victim. 

Place  of  refuge  for  the  wheezy, 
There  asthmatics  take  it  easy  ; 
If  of  lungs  you'd  bo  retrievers, 
Go  to  Heliers,  unbehevers. 

Don't  you  frown,  and  look  so  haughty, 
And  think  my  form  of  speech  is  naughty  ; 
Heliers,  madam— cry  you  mercy — 
Is  the  capital  of  Jersey. 

By  a  Sainl  the  place  was  founded, 
Though  ('tis  strange)  the  isle  is  bounded 
By  rocks  of  the  Plutonic  order  ; 
Hence,  it  hath  a  fire-made  border. 


I 


1<4 


l''>h:Tl<\l.    II"/.'A>    >>F  SAMIEI.    I.OVKn, 


Hence,  porlaans,  no  cold  invades  it, 
Bat  a  genial  clinic  pervades  it : 
If  for  coziness  you're  minded, 
Go  to  Heliers,  and  you'll  find  it. 

When  amono-  fno  Gauls,  great  Ciosar, 
Catching  cold,  became  a  wlieezor  ; 
'Stead  of  crossing  Oharon's  ferry, 
Went  io  Heliers,  and  gi'ew  nierrj'. 

Built  a  castle  there,  and  call'd  it 
"  Mont  Orgueil,"  and  proudly  wall'd  it ; 
Thus  to  Norman-French  )io  stranger, 
Tho'  lie  was  from  Home  a  ranger. 

Time  doth  work  a  change  in  all  things, 
Be  they  great  or  be  they  small  things ; 
lifmm  Rome  they  roam'd  af ore-days, 
'J'is  to  Rome  thev  roam  in  our  da  vs. 

Pardon  mc  this  brief  digression, 
List,  again,  to  my  profession, 
That  Heliers,  nrm.  coik,  for  tho  wheezy 
Is  the  ])!a(^(5  to  take  it  easy. 

Don't  T  well,  so  well,  remember, 

In  the  middle  of  December, 

Seeing  silken  tlounces  tlvin*' 

Round  some  forms  well  worth  espyin^  ;- 

Por  winter  mutHings  do  no  duty 
Here,  to  hide  the  lines  of  beauty ; 
Double  jiipon.%  furs,  and  kersev. 


N 


ever  watite 


I 


irti  ill  Jersev. 


POETICAL  WOliKS  OF  SAMUEL  hOVKli. 

Fiiii-  ones— bless  tlieir  pretty  faces,— 
On  the  pier,  disport  tlieir  graces, 
Chid  in  silks  and  velvet  jackets, 
'NVatehing  for  the  English  packets. 

Sonic  for  friends  expected,  looking. 
Friends  Avho  come  for  Christmas  cooking  ; 
Wisely  'scaping  Loudon  murky  : — 
Go  to  Heliers  for  your  turkey  ! 

Ay !  turkey,  grouse,  black-game,  and  widgeon, 
Pheasant,  partridge,  pie  of  pigeon, 
Holid  round,  or  vol-au-ccnt  light 
(Worthy  of  a  poet's  song  quite). 

These,  with  plenty  more,  abound  here, 
And  the  best  of  wine  is  found  here  I 
And,  would  thirsty  souls  drink  deep, 
In  Heliers  (luckily)  drink  is  cheap  : 

For  here— rejoice— no  duty  paid  is, 
Save  that  we  gladly  pay  the  ladies. 
So  swains,  in  sparkling  wine— how  nice  — 
Can  toast  their  sweethearts  at  half-price. 

Here,  too,  shines  a  summer  sun, 
When  in  England  suuimor's  done  ; 
Grateful  for  the  solar  blaze  is 
Ho  who  sings  to  Heliers'  praises. 

Let  them  boast  of  their  Madeiras, 
Their  Teneriffes,  and  their  Terceiras, 
Their  Cannes,  their  Nices,  their  Moutpeliers, 
Still  will  I  say,  "  Go  to  Heliers." 


105 


I'. 

h 
■i 

i 

i 


w 


I' 


IOC. 


VOiaiCAL   ]\OhKS  OF  SAMUEL   L'lVER. 


LOVE    AND    DEATH. 

A  rAiii.K  VAxoyi  .i-:.s()j'. 

VKRSIFIKD    AM)    lU-VKUSlFIED. 


Cupid,  one  daj',  was  surprised  iu  a  shower  of  rain, 

(He's  a  delicate  fellow); 
So,  for  shelter,  he  ran  to  a  shadowy  f^'rotto  liard  by, 

For  he  had  no  umbrella. 
Ho  thought  he  niio-ht  rest  while  the  storm  was  in  action,  so  he 

Lapp'd  one  wing-  o'er  his  head. 
The  other  lie  folded  so  nicely  l)eneath  him,  and  slept 

On  his  own  feather  bed. 
0  Cupid  !  you  stupid  !  Avhat  were  you  about 

To  lie  down  iu  that  cave  ? — 

'Twas  as  good  as  a  grave — 
As  he  soon  found  out. 


For  the  arch  where  the  Archer  reposed  was  the  cavern  of 
Death, 

AVho  had  storn  out,  unknown, 
To  unfasten  the  portals  of  life  with  his  skeleton  kevs 

In  St.  Mary-le-?;';«(?. 
Soon  he  returned,  and  Love,  wakuig,  to  see  the  grim  king 

"With  terror  did  shiver, 
And,  in  a  hurry  arising,  his  arrows  he  dropt 

In  a  quake  from  his  quiver. 
O  Cupid  !   you  stupid  !  'twas  silly  to  fly  ; 

Death  ccuid  not  hurt  you  : — 

For  Ic 


when  'tis  true. 


It 


never  can  < 


lie! 


I'OKTli 


Ah  woui<-<  <>i'  ■■■\Mri-i'  i-'>yi:i^' 


101 


-    v  tlio  arrows  of  Death  were  all  lyin-  about  ou  the  groiiua, 

Aiiil  with  Cupi'Vs  did  mix  ; 
And,  ever  siiieo,  Cupid  and  Death  are  uucouscioiisly  playing 

Most  unlucky  tricks  ; 
For  Love,  having  gather'd  some  arrows  of  Death  with  his 

own, 

Makes,  sometimes,  a  hit 
And  the  "  gallenj  of  beauty,^'  but  finds  that  his  mistaken  shaft 
Drives  some  belle  to  "  the  pit:' 
O  Cupid !  you  stupid !  why  spoil  thus  your  (luiver, 
And  send  to  the  hrad 
Some  poisonous  dart 
That  was  meant  for  Ihe  Ucor  ? 


And  Death,  as  unconsciously  shooting  l^ove's  arrows  around. 

To  bring  down  the  old  ones. 
Sees  grandads  and  dowagers  wondrously  loarm'd  into  lovo, 

That  he  meant  to  be  cold  ones. 
Oh,  mischievous  medley  of  Love  and  of  Death '.-which  is 

worse — 

('Tis  a  question  perplexing ;— ) 
To  be  too  young  to  die,  or  be  too  old  to  love?-both  per- 
verse, 

Arc  confoundedly  vexing. 
O  Cupid !— how  sadly  grotesque  is  the  view 
Of  white  gloves  and  favors 
To  Death  for  hU  labors. 
And  hatbands  to  you  ! 


I 


h)H 


J'l'h.Tl'Ah    II"/;A>   I'f  ^.\MCKI.   I.dVKi:. 


rilOLOOUE. 


An  Amateur  Dramiitic  Eiitprtaiiinipiit  by  j^cntlcnicn  connected  -with  tlie  Olas- 
f[ow  Pn-sH  wiirt  Riven  in  uid  of  ii  fund  coliceti'd  for  tlio  hcnotlt  of  tlio  family  of 
u  deeeiitied  mciiitier  of  that  litrrary  liiotliorliood.  Tlio  play  iiciformLMl  wa^ 
"(Jiiy  Mannering,'  and  tin;  proloKue  was  Kpokeu  in  the  character  of  Dominic 
Sampson. 


F.nh-r  fill',  DoJiiNiE,  loitkiiuj  about  vai/itelij. 

"NVheiik  aro  they  nil  ?— ov  liave  I  niissM  my  way  ? 
They  said  they  wanted  me  to  join  theii-  i)lay ; 
But  where  to  o(),  in  truth  I  am  uncertain  — 

[ylppears  .surpriKcd  to  see  the  aiuUence. 
I  fear  I've  ^ot  the  Avronof  side  of  the  curtain. 
Are  you  the  players? — Why,  yes;  for  Shakespeare's  pa<,'e — 
"  :Made  for  all  time,"  savs  "  All  the  world's  a  sta^e. 
And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  actors," 
And  here  yon  play  the  j)art  of  benefactors! 

Now,  for  your  delectation,  I'll  reveal 

A  treasure  it  were  Goth-like  to  conceal ; 

A  literary  tre;isure — prose  and  rliyme, 

A  heap  of  newspapers,  of  every  time, 

Diurnal  and  hebdi)niadal.     I  found  them 

Just  as  you  see,  with  this  old  blanket  round  them — 

A  good  precaution,  let  tli'  unwise  be  told, 

For  you  should  never  let  your  news  grow  cold. 

[Opem  th".  parcel  and  laij^  \t  at  his  feet. 
Deep  in  the  dust  of  a  Coiiectors  closet 
T  found  this  typographical  deposit, 


J'OKTlfAh   WoUKS  OF  .s.l.Ul/;/-    l.oVKli. 


lUU 


Antl  of  all  "  ograpliios  "  beneath  the  moon 
'rypu<,'rui)liy  hab  been  tlio  iiolilest  boon. 
S()ll.e\^H!s^s'a  at  tivHt  the  Devil  had  a  hand  iu't,  ^ 
Until  i    pevience  prov'd  such  good  and  o-rand  iu't, 
Timt  guoHst'S— to  extremes  opposing  giv'ii  — 
Wf  nt"ui)  from  low  to  high,  and  gness'd  at  Heaven— 
And  guess'd  aright.-Tvuth's  early  way  was  rough, 
And  barr'd  with  much  "  inipenutrablo  st  aff," 
And  cowl  and  helmet -men  in  frock  and  brass 

Held  jealous  guard  above  the  narrow  pass, 

And  heavy  toll  was  wrenched  l)y  hand  of  power 

From  the  o'ermastered  nniny— till  an  hour 

or  bright  redemption  o'er  their  slavery  broke— 

A  ne\v-l)oru  Giant  came  and  burst  their  yok(!! 

^\'hat  was  that  Giant's  name?— (decreed  to  pluck 

Oppression  down  and  set  young  Freedom  up) 

The  name's  an  odd  one— th-at  I  nmst  confess— 

It  is  a  paradox,  and  nothing  less— 

The  conquerer  of  oppression  was  Tue  Tukss! 

[ Tah:x  a  xmall  <>cl,i ro  xlicrt  from  the  bundle. 

From  small  beginnings  see  what  wonders  rise, 

Here  is  a  tii'stling  ;— of  the  infant  size, 
A  sweet  young  innocent- a  milky  darling 
Before  he  cut  his  teeth  and  took  to  snarling, 

But  he  grew  bigger, 

[Produces  a  !<omrivhal  larf/cr  })aper. 

Icarn'd  to  deal  in  chuckles, 
Ontgrew  his  sleeves— e/v/o,  he  shewed  his  knuckles  ; 
11  is 'jibes  and  knocks  alarm'd  some  sober  folk, 
His  jokes  hit  hard— his  hitting  was  no  joke- 
Tyrants  and  knaves  no  bounds  t(j  anger  knew. 
But  aU  the  more  theij  stormed  tiie  more  he  grew. 

[Takes  a  larger  paper  from  the  parcel. 


Ill) 


j'o/niiw/.  \\'>i;Ks  oF  s.\mvj:l  I.oVEU. 


jj  lok  to  IhU  ^'■t)0(ily  i'uli'j'.s  bravo  cxparise — 
iJiit  I  should  tii-o  ill  if^nilav  advaiico 
-^\  dsJff  oil  size,  HO  \v.i  nus  aliow,  conqdcto, 
til*,'  Vvom'n  triumph  iu  a  UOVBUi  .SHEET, 
V    'iiijyavfa  with  which  young  lly-lcavu^  wcro  but  mid^t'.s— 
1J(  huld  it  in  its  gloi)  — 

[  Vn/ohls  a  ncivxjjapcr  of  the  larr/rst  .vuft 
There ! — Prodigious ! ! ! 
(hn-  earlier  "  C'<)urici>  "  went  a  sober  gait. 
And  readers,  editors,  ai.'l  time  could  wait, 
"When  mails  were  slow,  and  oven  tlio  express 
No  Hi)eedier  than  the  nmil  -or  rather  less. — 
NcxI,  rapid  raihv:iy  (i.iice  esteem'd  so  fast), 
3. [on;  rapid  work  up')ii  reporters  cast, 
]3iiL  now,  with  t(;legraphic  lires  surroundinq-, 
N(!ws  Hashes  in  a  way  that's  cpiite  confounding  1 
Thinlc  of  the  Editor  who'i^  bound  to  form 
A  calm  digest  of  this  electric  st-irm  ; 
Of  north  and  south,  and  east  and  west,  ho  dashes 
From  his  conducting  i>eii  the  ])ri]liant  llasiu-s, 
Tlie  hours  of  daily  lif.;  for  every  bright/ning, 
Gilding  oar  dullness  with  his  gay  slieet-lightning  I 

And  all  this  toil  from  inorn  till  night  is  borne  ; 
Xay,  harder  still,  too  oft  from  niglit  till  morn  ; 
For  while  the  pampered  idle  dream  and  snore, 
(Perhaps  disturbing  somebody  next  door,) 
The  sleei)less  Editor  his  vigil  keeps. 
To  happier  nuiko  the  happy  dog  who  sleeps, 
Sleeps  till  ho  wakes  for  bath  and  breakfast  irailv 
io  swallow  tea  and  mutHns  with  "The  Daily." 

This  printed  wonder— -luany-llavor'd  olio- 
To  suit  all  tastes—an  ever-welcome  folio. 


I'Ot.TirM.    11  "/.'AN  Ol'SAMUKI.    l.oVKli 


111 


1 


How  "tin  iw'.^^inpliHhM,  bard  'tis  to  cuiiccivo, 
liul  what  wc  Ht'o  we  must,  pt'iforco,  boliovc, 

Ai.il  li<'i'<-'  it  i'^  '• — 

I  .:,.inU  ciiiphaliralh   '■'  '<>-  wio^jajter. 

Bvfiin-dust  n.ii<l  niidui<,dit  oil 

Cicu'a'  these;  coluiUIiH,  I'ieU  ill  IlKMitid  toil, 

Tiii-ho  coluniiiK— and  vei  lemboi ,  >u  read  'uiu, 

Tlio  teinplo  thoy  support  is  that  of  Frtioduiii ! 

Ah  !  there  was  one  wo  Icuew  whoso  spirit  bright 
IM.i/'d  foromoHt  in  the  intellectual  tight ; 
Who  set  his  lance  in  rest  where'er  abuse 
JJctied  encounter— and  ne'er  granted  truce, 
Till  Truth's  fair  banner  glitter'd  on  the  height, 
Wherever  wrong  contended  against  right ! 
Th(;  battle  won— ho  scorned  a  further  blow  ; 
Ife  brook'd  no  chain— and  would  not  cliaiu  a  foo  ; 
The  contest  ended— with  his  brave  right  hand 
IJaek  to  Iho  sheath  he  turn'd  his  l>lting  brand, 
And  in  tlie  grasp  of  friendship  would  conclude 
A  fiituic  peace  to  crown  a  bygone  feud! 

]'eace  to  his  gallant  spirit !— Here  we've  met 

F.a-  sake  of  merits  w(!  can  ne'er  forget. 

Peace  U)  his  spirit.— IVat  T  must  depart— 

1  feel  a  wcMkness  coming  o'er  my  heart, 

Ami  with  Coriolanns  I  arrive  at, 

This  truth,— Scars  should  be  only  shown  in  private, 

H(n-e  'tis  too  public  for  a  mourning  matter. 

{Prom}>f<'r'--<  hcU  rinjs, 

I5;it  bless  me,  what  is  this  prodigious  clatter? 

X  ipiite  forgot — 

[Gathers  up  his  papers  and  points  to  the  cnrlai   . 


112 


POETICAL    WOUKS  oF  .^AMi'KI.   LOVER. 


They  want  my  loiinied  luhors, 

[A(ldre.<t'r..-i  the  orch'-stra. 
So  now,  begin  you,  with  your  pipes  and  tabors, 
I  quite  forgot ! — I'm  lost  m  pleasing  vapors 
"Whene'er  I  dip  into  delightful  papers. 

lIJxU  hugging  his  'p^'l^'Tfi. 


A    HEALTH    TO    GARIBALDI. 


H 


Written  to  be  sung  at  the  Anniversary  Dinner  of  the  Ghisgow  St.  Andrew's 
Society,  November  30th,  18G0,  aUer  the  toast  of  "  The  Honorary  Members  ol 
the  Society." 


Brothers  of  St.  Andrew  bold, 
Fast  in  manly  faith  enroll'd, 
"When  our  joyous  feast  we  hold. 

Graced  with  minstrelsy  ; 
Then  our  shells  of  joy  we  crown, 
To  the  names  of  bright  renown, 
Karnes  that  live  thro'  ages  flown 

With  fame  that  ne'er  can  die. 

Our  hearts  to  stir,  a  mighty  spell 
In  glorious  names  will  ever  dwell, 
William  Wallace— William  TeU— 

Garibaldi — shine. 
Lights  throughout  all  time  to  be, 
Kings  to  warn,  to  guide  the  free, 
Beacon  tuw'rs  of  Libertv, 

Guarding  fire  divine ! 


i 


ii 


ol 


I'orncAL  \voi:h-s  of  .s.i.ur/;/,  lovkr.  113 

Garibaldi,  brave  and  g^od, 

Honor'd  in  thy  brotlierliood, 

The  Wallace  Casket's  sacred  wood 

Bore  our  pledge  to  thee.* 
'Twas  our  croHS,  our  badge  of  pride, 
Tried  in  faith,  in  battle  tried, 
Let  it  on  thy  bosom  bide, 

'Tis  emblem  of  the  free. 

• 

Ne'er  did  cross  of  honor  rest, 
On  a  more  undaunted  breast, 
Home  of  every  high  behest, 

Fill'd  with  Freedom's  flame  ; 
So  crown  the  bowl— a  briiinniug  toast— 
"The  battle-cry  of  Freedom's  host— 
«'  The  ])rightest  star  our  rank's  can  boast— 

"  Garibaldi's  name ! " 


IMPROMPTU 

On  being  requested  to  write  an  elegy  on  an  unwovtl.y  occasion. 


Dfak  Madam,  I  ne'er  could  play  poet  on  woes  ; 
In  rhymes  I  rejoice,  but  I  sorrow  in  prose  ; 
Tho'  a  verse  I  can  turn  for  a  song  or  a  glee, 
1  a  foot  ne'er  could  make  for  a  friend's  LEG. 

*  Tlu-  St  Anarow's  (Toss  cuclo.ea  m  a  l,..H!H.nH>  vu^k.t  ...ule  of  a  porti-.n 
Of  the  cdcbfa'ed  "Wallace  Ouk."  was  .cut  to  the (Jen...al  ..  lus  .sUuul  honu-  ol 
taprca. 


ft. 


'£zsi£^i^'^Xi^»S-^?SiS^-^~^i 


lU 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


EOSE    OF    ROSS    CASTLE: 

A   EEMINISCENCE    OF    KILLAKNEY. 


There's  a  tower  that  stands  by  Ivillaniey's  fair  lake, 

And  the  towrists  come  there  its  owld  faytures  to  take, 

But  a  young  bit  of  beauty  is  Hvin'  hard  by, 

At  which  poets  and  paint«rs  ivill  peep,  on  the  sly  ; 

•Tis  Rose  of  lioss  Castle,  and  sore  I'm  afraid 

That  some  of  them  scamps,  with  line  arts  for  their  thrade, 

Would  coax  her,  and  hoax  her,  and  stale  her  away  :— 

But  whoever  does  that— oh  !  let  him  rue  the  day ! 

Paws  off,  false  admirers — of  Conal  beware, 

For  he'll  guard  his  girl  with  a  lover's  fond  care  ; 

As  the  bright  guardian  waters  round  Castle  Iloss  play, 

So  he'll  guard  his  darling  by  night  and  by  day. 

But  'tis  aisy  for  watlier  a  castle  to  guard, 

For  the  wather  is  cowld,  and  the  stones  they  are  hard  : 

Oh  !  if  girls  were  bub  fstoiio,  and  tL,.t  boys  were  but  cool. 

What  trouble  'twould  save  them  in  playing  the  fool ! 

Oh,  tlie  eye  of  the  hawlv  and  the  oar  of  iho  hare 
In  guarding  a  girl  v,ill  have  n(Ahing  to  spare  ; 
If  our  siven  small  sinses  just  di)ubled  had  been, 
'Tis  httle  euougli  that  you'd  lintl  the  fourteen  ! 
]5ut  sometimes  siv'n  siu.ses  are  knock'd  into  one, 
Tis  the  one  sense  of  love  for  the  loved  one  alone  ; 
And  that  vrill  ne'er  falter,  nor  slumber,  nor  sleep, 
And  Hose  of  Koss  Castle  in  safety  will  keep  ! 


] 


\i 


POETICAL  WOIIKS  OF  SAifUKL  LOYEU. 


115 


rade, 


ool, 


GIVE    ME    MY    ARllOWS    AND    GIVE    ME 

MY    BOW. 


iM  tlie  Orcnt.  Xorth  American  lakes  there  are  islands  l.earin!!;  the  name  of 
.  Mm,i<oH  •'  which  si-nifies  "  TuK  Ckkat  Spikit,"  and  Indian  tradition  declares 
tliiti'i  the's"  islands  the  (Ireat  Spirit  concealed  the  precious  metals,  tliercy 
.i,owi!Kr  that  he  did  not  di'sire  tliey  should  he  possessed  by  man  ;  and  that 
V.  hrneu'r  some  rash  mortal  has  atteini)ted  to  obtain  treasure  from  "  he 
Minitou  lsh>-'  his  canoe  was  always  overwhelmed  by  a  tempest.  ilie 
-ralclaccs,^'  however,  fearless  of  "  Manitou's  "  thunder,  arc  no^y  woikmg 
tlic  extensive  mineral  region  of  tlie  lakes. 

TiMfi;  me  not,  str.anger,  with  gold  from  the  raiuo, 

I  l;;ive  got  treasure  more  precious  than  thine  ; 

rreedom  in  forest,  and  health  in  the  chase, 

Where  the  hunter  sees  beauty  in  Nature's  bright  face  : 

Tlien  give  me  my  arrows  and  give  me  my  bow, 

Iti  the  wild  woods  to  rove  where  the  blue  rapids  flow. 

If  gold  had  been  good.  The  Great  Spirit  had  giv'n 
Tliat  gift,  like  his  others,  as  freely  from  Hcav'n  ; 
Th(>  lake  gives  me  Whitetish,  the  deer  gives  me  meat, 
And  the  toil  of  the  capture  gives  slumber  so  sweet : 
Then  give  me  my  arrows  and  give  me  my  bow, 
In  the  wild  woods  to  rove  where  the  blue  rapids  flow. 

Why  seek  you  death  in  the  dark  cave  to  tuid 

While  there's  life  on  the  hillin  the  health  ')rcathing  wind  ? 

And  death  parts  you  soon  from  your  treasure  so  briglit— 

As  the  gold  of  the  sunset  is  lost  in  the  night  : 

Then  give  luo  my  arrows  and  give  me  my  bow, 

In  the"wild  woods  to  rove  where  the  blue  rapids  flow. 


IIG 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER 


THE    CHAIN     OF    GOLD. 


Si 


The  Kiirl  of  Ki!il:iro,  Lor(l-Dc])iity  (if  IruUiiul,  ruled  justly,  and  wiis  liiited  by 
the  small  oppressors  whoso  practiees  ho  discounteiiaiiei'il.  They  aeeiised  him 
of  favoring  the  Irisli  to  tiie  King's  detriment,  but  ho,  in  the  iiroseiico  of  tiio 
King,  rebutted  their  calumnies.  They  said,  at  last,  "  I'leaso  your  IliiiliJiess, 
nil  Ireland  cannot  rule  this  llarl." — "  Then,"'  said  lleiu'y,  "  lie  is  the  man  to 
rule  all  Ireland,"  and  ho  took  the  golden  chain  from  his  neck  and  threw  it  over 
the  shoulders  of  the  Karl,  who  returned,  with  honor,  to  his  governnunit. 


On,  Moina,  I've  a  tale  to  tell 
Will  glad  thy  soul,  my  j^irl  : 

Tlie  King  hath  giv'n  a  chain  of  gold 
To  our  noble-hearted  Earl. 

His  foes,  they  rail'd — the  Earl  ne'er  tj[uaird- 
But,  with  a  front  so  bold, 

Before  the  King  did  backward  Iling 
The  slanderous  lies  they  told  : 

And  the  King  gave  him  no  iron  chain- 
No — he  gave  him  a  chain  of  gold  ! 


i 


Oh,  'tis  a  noble  sight  to  see 

The  cause  of  truth  prevail  : 
An  lionest  cause  is  always  proof 

Against  a  treacherous  tale. 
Let  fawning  false  ones  court  the  great, 

The  heart  in  virtue  bold 
AVill  hold  the  right,  iu  power's  despite, 

Until  that  heart  be  cold  : 
Tor  falsehood's  the  bond  of  slavery, 

But  truth  is  tlie  chain  ci  gold. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


117 


>  Ililtcd  by 
ciisoil  him 
ICO  of  the 
(liuliiU'ss, 
II'  mail  to 

I'W   it  OVLT 

it. 


1 


Fiilse  Cunnal  wed  the  rich  one 

"NVitli  her  gold  and  jewels  rare, 
But  Dermid  wed  the  maid  he  lov'd, 

And  she  clcar'd  his  brow  from  care  : 
And  thus,  in  our  own  hearts,  love, 

We  may  read  this  lesson  plain, 
Let  outward  joys  depart,  love, 

So  peace  within  remain  - 
For  falsehood  is  an  iron  bond, 

But  love  is  the  golden  chain  1 


LINES 

On  the  (Iciith  of  Sir  N.  Talfourd.* 


The  instantaneous  plunge  from  life  to  death 

Is  ever  awful  :— if  it  be  the  votary 

Of  empty  pleasure  that  completes  the  fullness 

Of  his  brief  time  amid  the  the  revel's  roar  ; 

Or  soldiers,  in  hot  blood,  while  taking  life 

Losing  his  own.— But  more  profoundly  deep 

The  lesson  strikes,  when,  startled,  we  behold 

The  judge  call'd  from  the  judgment  seat  to  judgment  I 

Let  Hope  (most  giv'n  to  scan  the  future),  now 
Turn  to  the  past,  regardful  of  his  deeds.. 
And  thro'  her  tears  look  upward,  and  exclaim 
"  May  that  sweet  mercy  which  he  lov'd  on  earth 
Welcome  his  gentle  soul  to  peace  in  heav'n  !  " 
><■  This  much -lauicutcd  dccc:ise  took  pfaco  on  Tiio  IJcucli  in  \h:A, 


m\ 


118 


ruKTICAL  WOIiKH  OF  HAMUEL  LOVER. 


PADDY    BLAKE'S    ECHO 

O.NB    OF    THE    WONDiaiS    OF   KlI.LAItNKY, 


In  the  gap  of  Dmilo 

There's  an  echo,  or  so, 
And  some  of  them  echoes  is  very  surprisiii'; 

You'll  think,  in  a  stave 

That  I  mane  to  ilesaive, 
For  a  ballad's  a  thing  you  expect  to  ilnd  lies  in.* 

But  visibly  thruo 

In  that  hni  forninst  vou 
There's  an  echo  as  plain  and  as  safe  as  the  Bank,  too  ] 

Bnt  civilly  spake 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Paddy  Blake  ?  " 
The  echo  politely  says  "  Very  well,  thank  you  !  " 

One  day  Teddy  Iveogh 

With  Kate  Connor  did  go 
To  hear  fi-om  the  echo  such  wondherful  talk,  sir  j 

But  the  echo,  thev  sav, 

"Was  conthrairy  that  day, 
Or  jjerhaps  Paddy  Blake  had.  gone  out  for  a  walk,  sir. 

So  Ted  savs  to  Kate 

"  'Tis  too  hard  to  be  bate 
By  that  deaf  and  dumb  baste  of  au  eclio,  so  lazy, 

But  if  we  both  shout 

At  each  other,  no  doubt, 
We'll  make  up  an  echo  between  us,  my  daisy  I  " 

*  Tis  loo  true  lo  he  put  i,i  a  halkuX  is  an  old  h-iA\  siiying. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


lit) 


"Now,  Kitty,"  says  Teddy, 

"  To  answer  bo  ready." 
"  Oh,  very  well,  thank  you,"  cried  out  Kitty  then,  sir  ; 

"  Would  you  like  to  Aved, 

Kitty  darlin'  ?  "  says  Ted. 
"Oh,  very  well,  thank  you,"  says  Kitty  again,  sir. 

"  D'ye  like  me  ?  "  says  Teddy, 

And  Kitty,  quite  ready, 
Cried  "  Very  well,  thank  you  ! "  with  laughter  beguihng. 

Now  won't  you  confess 

Teddy  could  not  do  less 
Than  pay  his  respects  to  the  lips  that  were  smiling  I 


i: 


:> 


Oh,  dear  Paddy  Blake, 

May  you  never  forsake 
Those  hills  that  return  us  such  echoes  endearing  ; 

And,  girls,  all  translate 

The  sweet  echoes  like  Kate, 
No  faithfulness  doubting,  no  treachery  fearing. 

And,  boys,  bo  you  ready. 

Like  frolicksome  Teddy, 
Be  earnest  in  loving,  though  given  iojol'lng; 

And,  thus  when  inclined, 

May  all  true  lovers  find 
Sweet  echoes  to  answer  from  hearts  they're  invoking ! 


120 


POETICAL  noiiKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVER. 


THE   WAll   .SHIP   OF   PEACE. 


The  AniPviciiiiso\hil)it,r(l  much  synipatliy  tnwanis  IrHand  whnn  tlm  Cimino 
ntRiMl  tlHTC  in  1847.  A  toudiing  instiuicc  was  tlicii  given  how  tlie  Ijcllcr  IVel- 
inK'<  of  our  nature  may  ciiiloy  evon  t!io  onKinery  of  dcstniciion  t<.  serve 
the  cause  oC  liiiinanity ; -an  Anieriran  lri;,'ate  flhc  Jainestown,  I  liclieve ), 
was  (lisniantled  of  all  li.'r  wailike  a.)pliances,  and  plac-ed  at  the  d'sposal  of  tlio 
cliaritw.lile  to  carry  jirovisiDiis. 


SwKET  L;iii(l  of  Song-!  tiiy  harp  doth  hang 

Upon  the  willows  now, 
AVhile  faiiiino's  l)ligl)t  ami  fever's  pang 

Stamp  misoiy  cju  tliy  brow  ; 
Yet  take  thy  harp,  and  raise  tliy  voice, 

Though  faint  and  low  it  bo, 
And  lot  thy  siidcing  licart  rejoice 

In  friends  still  left  to  thee  I 

Look  out --look  out — across  the  sea 

That  girds  thy  emerald  shore, 
A  ship  of  war  is  bound  for  thee, 

But  with  no  warlilve  store  ; 
Her  thunder  sleeps — 'tis  Mercy's  breath 

That  wafts  her  o'er  the  sea  ; 
She  goes  not  forth  to  deal  out  death. 

But  bears  now  life  to  thee ! 


Thv  wasted  hand  can  scarcely  strike 
The  chords  of  grateful  praise  ; 

Thy  plaintive  tone  is  now  unliko 
Thy  voice  of  foi-mer  days  ; 


rOJ-nWAL  WOUKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


121 


Yot,  cvou  in  koitow,  tiiueful  still, 
Let  Erin's  voice  proclaim 

In  bardic  praise,  on  every  hill, 
Columbia's  ''lorious  name ! 


♦«♦ 


THE   INDIAN    SUMMER. 


The  Tjrief  period  -wliioh  kucccciIs  the  autumnal  close,  called  "The  Indiau 
mimiuer"'— a  reflex,  as  it  were,  of  tlie  early  portion  of  the  year,  strikes  « 
Btrangcr  in  America  as  peculiarly  beautiful,  and  quite  charmed  me. 


When  summer's  verdant  beauty  tlies, 
And  autumn  glows  with  richer  dyes, 
A  softer  charm  beyond  them  lies — 
it  is  the  Indian  summer. 

Ero  winter's  snows  and  winter's  breeze 
Bereave  of  l^eauty  all  the  trees, 
Tho  balmy  spring  renewal  sees 
In  the  sweet  Indian  summer. 

And  thuP;  dear  love,  if  early  years 
Have  drown'd  the  germ  of  joy  iu  tears, 
A  later  gleam  of  hope  appears- 
Just  like  the  Indian  summer  : 


And  ere  the  snows  of  age  descend, 
Oh  trust  me,  dear  one,  changeless  friend, 
Our  falling  years  may  brightly  end- 
Just  like  the  Indian  summer. 


122 


I'OETWAL  UOUKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THM    ALABAMA. 


TO 


I  THOUQHT  of  thee,  as  du.vji  the  stream 
I  Hoated,  in  a  wanderer's  dream, 
As  sunset  cast  its  glowini,'  beam 

On  the  banks  of  the  Alabama ; 
The  waters  cahn  reflected  bright 
The  gohlen  glory  of  the  light, 
AVhile,  stealing  on,  the  shades  cf  night 

Came  over  the  Alabama. 

The  Evening  Star  came  peeping  thro' 
The  misty  veil  of  twilight  dew- 
Like  love  thro'  tears— its  brightness  gre-w 

Like  thine — on  the  Alabama. 
And,  sparkling  there,  as  Beauty's  queen,* 
Presided  o'er  the  tranquil  scene, 
I  wished  that  thou  badst  with  me  been 

On  the  lovely  Alabama, 

And  then  the  moon,  with  silver  beam, 
Shed  brighter  lustre  o'er  the  stream- 
But  brighter  was  the  Poet's  dream 

Of  thee — on  the  Alabama  ! 
The  sunset  bright — the  moonlight  fair— 
The  twilight  balm  of  evening  air — 
With  thought  of  thee  could  not  compare 

On  the  lovely  Alabama  ! 

*  Tcnus— the  Evening  Star. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUKL  LOVKr. 

However  fur,  however  iicnr, 

To  1110  alike  tlioii'rt  still  most  deiir — 

In  tliou;.^ht,  sweet  love,  thon'rt  with  \\\v.  here, 

On  the  winding  Alabama. 
The  watehdog's  bark  on  shore  I  hear  : 
It  tells  me  that  xoj/ic  homo  is  near, 
And  mem'ry  droj^s  alleetion's  tear 

On  the  distant  Alabama. 


123 


DROPPING   A  LINE. 

'W'llITTKN-    IN    18GG. 


A  i-KTTiU  there  went  from  our  Queen,* 
In  the  tenderest  spirit  conceived. 
To  a  citzen  hxdy  bereaved — 

"What  notice  of  that  has  there  been  ? 

Condolencos,  gentle  and  kind, 

From  Britain  were  sent  o'er  tlie  sea, 
But  still  all  unheeded  they  be — ■ 

"What  moral  in  this  may  we  tind '? 

And  last,  'mong  these  failures  by  dozens, 

Our  Telegraph  Cable  f  is  lost  ; 

So  'tis  fruitless,  we  lind  to  our  cost. 
This  "  dropping  a  line  "  to  our  cousins. 

■^  Tlio  aiitograi>Ji  iuttcr  or  ouadoluuco  iVoiu  (jiiut-u  V'ioluiia  to  thu  iv^idow  of 
President  Lincoln. 
T  The  first  one. 


ILU 


POKTICAL   MOA'A-.s   t>F  >.\MiJ:i.   LOVEli. 


THE  FLOODED  HUT  OF  THE  .^[ISSISSIIM'I. 


On  Ihc  witle-rolling  rivor,  at  eve,  sot  the  kiiu, 
And  tho  l()itf,'-toiliii<>-  diiy  of  tho  woodman  was  done, 
And  he  fliiujjf  down  tho  axo  that  had  foU'd  tho  lingo  tree, 
And  liis  o-,vn  little  daughter  ho  jilaccd  on  his  knee  ; 
iSlio  look'd  up,  with  smiles,  at  a  dovecot  o'erhead, 
"Where,  cireling  avoimd,  Hew  tho  pigoon.s  she  fed. 
And  more  fondly  tho  sire  elasp'd  his  child  to  hi.s  breast- 
As  ho  liiss'd  her— and  call'd  her  the  bird  of  hU  nest. 

Tho  wide-rolling  river  rose  high  in  tho  night, 
The  wide-rolling  river,  at  morn,  show'd  its  might, 
lM)r  it  leap'd  o'er  its  bounds,  and  invaded  the  wood 
AVhere  the  humble  abode  of  the  woodcutter  stood. 
All  ^Yas  danger  around,  and  no  aid  was  in  view, 
And  higher  and  higher  the  wild  watci's  grev/, 
i4.nd  the  child — looking  up  at  the  dovecot  in  air — 
Cried,  "Father— oh,  father,  I  wish  wo  were  there!  " 


•'  My  child,"  said  the  father,  '•  that  dovecot  of  thine 

Should  enliven  our  faith  in  the  Mercy  Divine  ; 

'Twas  a  dove  that  brought  Noah  the  sweet  branch  of  peace. 

To  show  him  the  anger  of  Heaven  did  cease  : 

Then  kneel,  my  loved  child,  by  thy  fond  father's  side, 

And  pray  that  our  Imt  m-\\  in  safety  abide, 

And  then  from  all  fear  may  our  bosoms  be  proof — 

While  the  dove  of  tho  deluge  'wi  ovjr  oar  roof." 


POETICAL   W0UKi<  OF  SAMV1:L  LOVKli- 


t2r. 


THE  CHAMELEON. 


Ladv,  I  would  woo  thee, 

Bwt  I  Hciivce  know  how  ; 
Mirth  seems  siHtev  to  theo 

With  that  sunny  brow  ; 
But  while  Ifushed  with  gladness, 

Sec,  a  passing  shade 
Casts  a  transient  sadness 

O'er  my  smiling  maid. 

Lady,  I  would  woo  thee 

When  I  hear  theo  sigh, 
But,  while  whisi)cring  to  thee, 

IMirth  is  in  thine  e3'o  ; 
Oh!  liow  bright  the  flashes — 

Lustre  through  the  shade — 
Of  the  dew  lashes 

Of  my  tearful  maid. 


Smiling,  love,  or  weeping, 

Call  me  to  thy  side. 
Love  will  then  fee  keeping 

Watch  around  my  bride  : 
I'd  ne'er  ask  the  morrow 

What  my  fato  might  be, 
So  the  joy,  or  sorrow. 

Might  be  shared  with  thee ! 


120 


I'UETICAL   WOllKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVFIl. 


THE    STAE    AND    THE    SURGE. 


TO 


"When,  at  niglit,  o'er  ocean  roaming, 

On  the  deck  I  lonely  stand, 
O'er  the  billows  wildly  foaming, 

Fancy  waA'es  her  magic  wand  ; 
Then  the  surge  that's  heavenward  springinjf 

Towards  the  stars  so  bright  above, 
To  my  heart  is  sadly  bringing 

But  the  image  of  oixr  love. 

XTpward  still  the  surge  is  straining, 

As  'twould  reach  the  studded  sky, 
AVhere  the  stars  are  brightly  reigning — 

Stars  that  rule  our  destiny. 
Like  the  hope  of  hapless  lover 

That  restless  surge  to  me  appears, 
When  its  daring  ilight  is  over, 

Back  it  falls  in  scatter'd  tears ! 


Calm  and  bright  the  star  is  glowing. 

Downward  still  its  soft  light  cast. 
While,  below,  the  tempest  blowing, 

Flings  tlie  surge  upon  the  blast ; 
Then  my  blighted  bosom  heaving. 

Sends  a  fruitless  sigh  afar  : — 
Canst  thou  blame  me  for  conceiving 

I'm  the  surge,  and  thou'rt  the  star? 


POETICAL  WOliKS  OF  HA  ML' EL  LOVER. 


127 


NYMTH    OF    NIAGARA. 


Nymph  of  Niagara  !  Sprite  of  the  mist ! 
"SVitli  a  wild  magic  my  brow  thou  hast  kiss'cl ; 
I  am  thy  slave,  and  my  mistress  art  thou, 
For  thy  wild  kiss  of  magic  is  yet  on  my  brow.* 

I  feel  it  as  first  when  I  knelt  before  thee, 
With  thy  emerald  robe  flowing  brightly  and  free,f 
Fringed  with  the  spray-pearls,  and  floating  in  mist — 
Thus  'twas  my  brow  with  wild  magic  you  kiss'd. 

Thine  am  I  still ; — and  111  never  forget 
The  moment  the  spell  on  my  spii'it  was  set ; — 
Thy  chain  but  a  foam-wreath — yet  stronger  by  far 
Than  the  manacle,  steel-wrought,  for  captive  of  war  ; 

For  the  steel  it  will  rust,  and  the  war  will  be  o'ei', 
And  the  manacled  captive  be  free  as  before  ; 
While  the  foam-wreath  will  bind  me  for  ever  to  thee  !- 
I  iove  the  enslavement — and  would  not  be  free ! 


Nymph  of  Niagara !  play  with  the  breeze, 

Sport  with  the  fawns  'mid  the  old  forest  trees ; 

Blush  into  rainbows  at  kiss  of  the  sun, 

From  the  gleam  of  his  dawn  till  his  bright  course  be  run 

*  Written  immediately  after  leaving  the  Falls. 

t  Tlio  water  in  tiie  centre  of  the  si'eat  fall  is  intensely  green,  and  of  gem 
like  brilliancy. 


I'' 


}2>i 


I'oKTK  I  /,  uni;hs  <>r  .<A  M (•;:/,  i.Dvr.n. 


I'll  not  bo  je;ilons--for  pure  is  thy  sporting', 
Heaven-born  is  all  that  around  thee  is  courtiu"-— 
Still  will  I  hn'ii  thee,  sweet  Sprite  of  the  mist, 
Ab  first  when  my  brow  with  wild  magic  you  kiss'd 


->*^~ 


FLOWEll    or    NATCHEZ. 


Fi.owi::!:  oi-  Natchi:/,  in  thy  Ijeauty, 

Take,  oh  take  the  poet's  lay  : 
She  may  claim  the  minstrel's  duty 
Who  lias  chann'd  liis  wand'ring  way. 
She's  so  sightly, 
She's  lio  sprightly, 
With  a  wit  so  kind,  tho'  keen, 
That  tliis  floAv'r 
Of  friendship's  hour 
I  will  call  sweet  Uohg  d'epine. 

Iln.^f'  (Tifpiiir,  in  love's  sweet  season, 

AMio  would  steal  one  leaf  from  thee, 
a\ray  the  hand  that  dares  the  treason 
Feel  the  thorn  tinvt  guards  the  tree! 
Then  safely,  Rose, 
Thy  sweets  repose 
Within  tliy  modest  leafy  screen. 
Till  hand  more  meet 
Would  cull  tiie  sweet 
And  njak(t  his  owi 


reet  I 


I  i'>.<^C 


epinp. 


*  Oil  t!i,>  \[[ 


:\n. 


POETICAL  WOliKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

Other  flow'rs  in  beauty's  fleetuess 

Court  the  scii.ie,  and  bloom  as  fair, 
I3ut  the  stinif  beneath  the  sweetness 
Makes  us  touch  the  Rose  ^vith  care. 

And  may  the  thorn, 

In  hfe's  sweet  morn, 
Guard  well  the  sweets  that  I  have  seen  ; 

And  gentle  be 

The  hand  to  thee 
That  wins  and  wears  sweet  Rose  d'epine. 


121) 


SLAYING    THE    DEER, 


In  the  woods,  hunters  say. 
It  is  glorious  and  gay 

To  n;sh  thro'  their  sporting  career, 
When  the  leaves,  fiilling  red, 
Yield  a  ready-made  bed, 

When  they  rest  after  slaying  Tin:  Deer  ; 
On  the  venison  steak 
Jovial  feasting  they  make, 

And  the  flask,  going  round,  hel}*  the  cheer, 
While  the  logs,  blazing  bright. 
Keep  them  warm  through  the  night, 

■\\lien  they  rest  after  slaying  The  DErn. 


130 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAM  UK  I.  LOVEli. 


But  I  know  ii  sport 
AVliich  is  s.'if'cr  resort, 

For  -svivcs  will  repine  when  too  far 
Yon  n,ie  tempted  to  steer 
In  pursuit  of  the  Jeer, 

And  they  wonder  "  wherever  you  .ire." 
So  give  me  the  sleigh 
On  the  \yhite  frozen  way, 

With  woman  beside  me  to  cheer, 
Who  is  never  complaining- 
How  long  you're  remaining 

When  tha^  you  are  Weighing  The  Dear. 

While  we  gallop  full  speed, 
As  we  run  we  may  read 

She  rejoices  how  fast  we  have  got  on, 
While  the  proud  little  minx, 
Wrapped  in  Bear-skin  or  Lynx, 

Just  looks  like  a  diamond  in  cotton. 
Her  cheek,  red  as  rose, 
(We  won't  speak  of  her  nose) 

Oh,  beauty's  a  dehcate  thin"-, 
Of  a  bloom  on  the  cheek 
Any  poet  can  speak, 

But  a  rose  on  the  nose  we  can't  sing. 

But  never  did  I 

In  a  sleigh  hear  a  sigh  ; 

In  fact,  there's  no  time  there  for  fretting  ; 
As  fast  as  the  wind 
We  leave  soi-r8w  behind. 

While  the  cold  is  our  appetite  whettiu"-. 
When  the  stomach's  in  order, 
No  mental  disorder 


POETICAL   WOP.KS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


bM 


131 


Upon  any  mortal  can  prey  : — 
If  your  Dear's  temper's  crost, 
Pray  at  once  for  the  frost, 

And  tix  lier  right  into  a  sleigli. 

If  slie  would,  she  can't  scold, 
For  the  weather's  so  cold, 

Her  mouth  she  can't  open  at  all ; 
In  vain  would  she  cry, 
For  the  tears  in  her  eye 

Would  be  frozen  before  thoy  could  fall : 
Then  hurra  for  the  snow ! 
As  we  merrily  go, 

The  bells  my  fleet  horses  can  cheer, 
"While  the  belle  by  my  side 
Is  my  joy  and  my  pride, 

Oh—there's  nothing  like  sleighing  The  Dear! 


LINES 

Ou  a  dubbing  in  Dublin* 


The  news  of  thy  knighthood  was  welcom'd  with  cheers  : 
While  it  gladden'd  our  hearts,  it  was  good  for  our  ears  : 
The  Gazette  that  records  it,  wherever  it  flies 
To  your  friends  thro'  the  world,  will  be  .good  for  their  eyes. 
Thus  CA.RLISLE  judiciously  dubbing  thee,  Will, 
Tn  honoring  thy  merit  hath  rivall'd  thy  skill. 
*  These  lines  refer  to  Sir  ^Yilliim  WiUlo,  the  eminent  aurist  and  oculist 


'1 


im 


rOJTlf'lf,   UofiKS  or  ^AMTKL   LOVKIl. 


'TIS    J3ETTEK    NOT    TO    KXOW. 


You  say  you  -love  mo  : — can  I  trust 

That  she,  by  inauy  woo'd, 
By  we,  at  length,  has  had  her  heart 

To  constancy  subdued  V 
Porha])s  sonu)  otlier  love  is  then*  ? — 

But  do  not  tell  me  so  : 
Wlien  knowlt-<l<^(;  ^vill  but  hxu\<x,  us  grief, 

■'Tis  Ijetter  not  to  know. 


Tl 
"He 

of  tl 
Bfcr 


Pevliaps  that  eye  has  beam'd  with  love 

In  days  I  knew  not  thee  ; 
That  ruby  lip  hath  bent  in  smilea 

For  others  than  for  mo  : 
]int  let  that  lip  stiil  silence  keep — 

I'll  trust  its  love-like  show — 
Since  knowledge  would  but  bring  me  grief, 

"Tis  better  not  to  know. 


Oh  !  what  a  simple  love  is  mine, 

Whoso  wishes  make  its  creed  ; 
But  let  me  ihwl-  you  love  me  still 

And  I'll  be  blest  indeed  : 
'Tis  better  tlint  the  eye  ne'er  see 

Than  that  its  tears  should  flow — 
When  knowledge  would  but  bring  us  grief, 

*Tis  better  not  to  know. 


POKTIVAL   WORKS  OF  SXMUEL   LOVER. 


133 


FAG-AN-BEALACH.* 

This  WW  occurs  in  a  scene  of  iiolitical  c.vcitni.ent  tto.-cril.ca  in  tlic  stm-y  of 
"  He  would  be  ii  Cfutlmian,''  but  iniglit  equiiily  bt'lou.i,'  to  many  oilier  iRriods 
of  the  hi.toiy  of  ii-ehuKl,  -ii  hiirassed  bind,  Avliich  has  been  forced  to  uursc  m 
eecix't  iiuuiy  a  deep  aud  dread  desire. 

FiLi.  the  Clip,  my  brotliers, 

To  pledge  a  toast, 
■\Vliicb,  beyond  all  otliers, 

AVe  prize  the  most ; 
As  yet  'tis  but  a  notion 

We  dure  not  name  ; 
But  soon  o'er  land  and  ocean 

'Twill  fly  with  fame ! 
Then  give  the  game  before  us 

One  view  holla, 
Hip !  hurra  !  in  chorus, 

FaiJf-an-Bealach. 


We  our  hearts  can  fling,  boys, 

O'er  this  notion, 
As  the  sea-bird's  wing,  boys, 

Dips  the  ocean. 
'Tis  too  deep  for  words,  boys, 

The  thought  wo  know, 
So,  like  the  ocean  bird,  boys, 

We  touch  and  go  : 

•Pronounced  raug-a-hoUagh,  meanins  "clear  the  road,"  or  "clear  the 
way.' 


131 


POETICAL  WOliKS  02''  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


For  dangers  deep  snrrouudiug, 

Oar  lioiioH  might  swallow  ; 
So,  through  the  tempest  bounding, 

Fag-aii-Bealach 

This  thought  with  glory  rife,  boys, 

Did  brooding  dwell, 
'Till  time  did  give  it  life,  boys, 

To  break  the  shell ; 
'Tis  in  our  hearts  yet  lying. 

All  uulledged  thing, 
But  soon,  au  eaglet  Hying, 

'Twill  take  the  wing  ! 
For  'tis  no  timeling  frail,  boys, — 

No  summer  swallow, — 
'Twill  live  through  winter's  gale,  boys, 

Fag-au-Bealach. 


Lawyers  may  imliie  us 

By  crooked  laws. 
Soldiers  strive  to  light  us 

From  countrv's  (;ause  ; 
But  we  will  sustain  it 

Living — dying — 
Point  of  law  or  bay'uet 

SLiU  defying ! 
Let  their  parchment  rattle — 

Drums  are  hollow  : 
So  is  lawyers'  jDrattle — 

Fag-an-Bealach. 

Better  early  graves,  boys — 
Dark  locks  gory, 


VOKTli'M   WOHKS  OF  tiA^IUKL   LOVKU, 

Thou  bow  the  head  iis  shivcs,  boys, 
■\Vhcn  they're  homy. 

ri^ht  it  out  we  must,  boys, 
Hit  or  miss  it, 

Better  bite  the  dust,  boys, 
Than  to  1-    sit! 

For  dust  to  dust  at  last,  boys- 
Death  xvill  swallow — 

Hark !  the  trumpet's  blast,  boys, 
Fag-an-Bealacli. 


135 


THE    FLYING    CLOUD. 


The  flying  cloud,  the  flying  cloud, 

la  coursing  o'er  the  sky  ; 
The  flying  cloud,  the  flying  cloud. 

Is  sparkling  bright  and  high  ; 
The  soaring  lark  on  matin  wing 

Is  singing  high  and  loud, 
But  e'en  the  soaring  lark  can't  reach 

That  lofty  flying  cloud  ! 

Oh  !  once  my  heart  was  like  that  lark, 
And  sang  as  bright  and  loud. 

And  hope  was  high  in  youth's  fair  sky- 
Just  like  yon  flying  cloud  ; 

By  fancy  fired,  this  heart  aspired 
More  high  than  Fate  .allow'd  ; 

But  now  its  weary  wing  is  tired — 
And  gone  Hope's  flying  cloud. 


180 


PuKTKwr.  wonKs  r/F  samuj:/,  LoVKH. 


"ONCE    UPON    A    TIME." 


O 


"  Oiii'o  upon  !i  time  ! " — I  love  tlio  phrase  : 

It  boiirs  mo  back  to  days  of  old, 
"When  pearls  were  strung  on  fairy  lays. 

And  I  was  rich  in  fairy  gohl ; 
"When  rubies  grew  on  silver  stems, 

And  emeralds  were  the  leaves  of  trees, 
And  diamonds  were  the  dew-drop  gems 

That  gleam'd  on  wonders  such  as  these, 

"  Once  upon  a  time." 

"With  childhood  pass'd  those  dreams  away, 

The  rose  assumed  the  ruby's  place, 
And  leaves  that  lost  the  emerald's  ray 

Found  greater  worth  in  Nature's  grace  ; 
In  riper  years,  the  rose  more  bright 

To  fancy  seem'd  on  beauty's  cheek  ; 
And  what  were  diamonds  tcj  the  liirht 

In  beauty's  eye  my  heart  might  seek, 

"  Once  upon  a  time  ?  " 

But  time  rolls  on  ;  the  cloud  of  years 
Its  shadow  o'er  our  lives  will  cast, 

And  when  the  present  dark  appears. 
Then  lingering  love  beholds  the  past ; 

And  when  some,  friend,  some  future  day, 
Remembers  him  who  sveaves  this  rhyine, 

Perchance  she'll  sigh  and  sadly  say 
"Once  upon  a  time!— Once  u])on  a  time! " 


POKTIVAL  WOliKS  oF  WiVrAY.  LOVKIi. 


137 


OH!   GIVE  ME  THY  HAND,  EAIU  LADY. 


Ou  !  give  1110  thy  hand,  I'uii'  lady, 

Th-at  siiowy-whito  hand,  so  small, 
Thy  bow'r  shall  be  dainty,  sweet  lady, 

In  a  bold  baron's  ancient  hall  ; 
There,  beauties  of  noble  line,  lady. 

Shine  forth  from  the  ])ictnr'd  wall, 
But  if  thou  wilt  bo  bride  of  mine,  lady, 

Then  niino  will  outshine  them  all ! 


I  sec  thou  wilt  not  give  thy  hand,  lady, 

I  see,  by  that  clear  cold  eye — 
If  thou  to  my  suit  didst  incline,  lady, 

The  rose  from  thy  cheek  would  ily 
Thy  lip  is  all  ruby-red,  lady. 

But  mine  is  so  pale  the  while- 
Nay,  fro.vn  not,  1  ask  not  thy  hand,  lady. 

But  ah  !~-let  lue  see  thee  smile. 

I  onlv  did  ask  for  thy  smile,  lady, 

Yet  scorn  to  thy  hp  doth  cling- 
That  rixby  bow  will  not  bend,  lady, 

Till  Cupid  hath  touch'd  the  striug  ; 
But  if  thou'lt  not  smile,  fair  lady. 

An  huuiblor  sni^'  I'll  try, — 
For  the  heart  thou  hast  brokei!,  fair  lady, 

Oh  !  give  me,  at  least,  thy  sighl 


138 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


SECRETS   WERE  NOT  MEANT  FOR  THREE. 


Come  with  me  where  violets  He 

Like  thine  eye — hidden  deep, 
"When  their  hirldn/,'  glances  blue 

Thro'  long  lushes  peep  ; 
Tliere,  amid  the  perfume  sweet, 

"Wiifted  on  the  biilmy  breeze, 
8helter'd  by  the  secret  shade 

Beneath  the  whisp 'ring  trees, 
Whisp'ring  there  won-Id  I  bo  too— 
I've  a  secret,  meant  for  you, 
Sweeter  than  the  wild  bee's  hum- 
Will  you  come  ? 


Come  not  when  the  day  is  bright, 

But  at  night,  when  the  moon 
Lights  tlie  grove  where  nightingales 

Sing  tlie  lover's  tune  :— 
But  B\v(!etor  llian  the  silver  sonf» 

That  fair  Philomel  doth  sino- 

Sweeter  thaji  the  fragrance  fresh 

The  flowers  round  us  fliu'^-— 
Sweeter  than  the  poet's  dream 
By  Castaha's  gifted  stream, 
Is  the  tale  I'll  tell  to  thee— 
Come  with  me ! 


I'OKTICAL  WOJiKS  OF  SAMUKL  I.OYKIl. 


130 


AN    HONEST    HEAllT    TO    GUIDE    US 


As  day  by  day 

We  hold  our  way 
Tliro'  this  wild  world  below,  boy«, 

"With  roads  so  crows, 

We're  at  a  loss 
To  know  which  way  to  go,  boys  : 

With  choice  so  vex'd 

When  man's  perplex'd. 
And  many  a  dovibt  has  tried  him, 

It  is  not  long 

He'll  wander  wrong, 
AVith  an  honest  heart  to  guide  him. 

When  rough  the  way, 

And  dark  the  day, 
More  steadfastly  wo  tread,  b*  -s, 

Than  when  by  How'r 

In  wayside  bow'rs 
We  from  tli'^  path  are  led,  boys  : 

Oh !  then  beware — 

The  serpent  there 
Is  gliding  close  besi<lo  iis ; 

'Twere  death  to  stay — 
So  speed  the  way, 
With  an  honest  heart  to  guide  ua. 

If  fortune's  gale 
Should  fill  our  >  '^k 


19      ::li 


140  VOKTICAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

"WliiiO  others  lose  the  wind,  boys, 

Look  Idudly  back 

Upon  tlic  track 
^  Of  luckless  mates  behind,  boys  : 

If  we  won't  heed 

A  friend  in  need, 
May  rocks  ahead  abide  ns  ! 

Let's  rather  brave 

Both  wind  and  wave, 
With  an  honest  heart  to  guide  us ! 


SIGH  NOT— LOVE  NOT-DOUBT  NOT. 


Sigh  no  more,  sigh  no  more,  sad  one,  sigh  no  more  ; 
Tell  me  why  should  you  not  bear  what  others  did  before  ? 

Grief  is  but  the  passing  cloud 

8h-adoAving  you  like  all  the  crowd  ; 

If  tlie  passing  cloud  were  not. 

Summer  would  be  all  too  hot- 
Then  sigh  no  more,  sigh  no  more,  sad  one,  sigh  no  more. 

"  Love  no  more,  love  no  more,  fond  one,  love  no  more." 
Thus  have  many  wise  ones  sung  in  wisdom's  days  of  yore  ; 

But  other  forms  there  are  indeed 

I'd  embrace  before  their  creed  : 

Perhaps  when  I'm  threescore  and  teu, 

I  man  sing— l)ut  not  till  then — 
"Love  no  more,  love  no  more,  fond  one,  love  no  more." 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAY.UEL  LyVER. 


Ul 


Doubt  no  moixs  doubt  no  more,  of  woman,  doubt  no  more  :— 
Yet  one  with  one  is  not  so  sure  as  "  two  and  two  make  four." 

Yet  doubt  not  woman  is  divine, — 

She  transcends  an  earthly  line  ; 

Beyond  all  mortal  care — 'tis  true — 

Perhaps  she  does  not  care  for  you — 
So  doubt  no  more,  doubt  no  more,  sceptic,  doubt  no  more  ! 


THE  PEARL  DIYER. 


Oh  !  wherefore,  diver,  tempt  t'he  wave 

Why  rashly  dare  the  sea  ? 
The  Hand  that  pearls  to  ocean  gave, 

Gave  other  gifts  to  thee ! 
Where  is  the  pearl  of  ocean  found?— 

'Tis  in  an  humble  shell : 
Oh  !  pride  of  heart,  what  lessons  deep 

The  pearl  to  thee  may  tell. 
Then  wherefore,  diver,  tempt  the  wave, 

Why  rashly  dare  the  sea  ? 
The  Hakd  that  pearls  to  ocean  gave. 

Gave  other  gifts  to  thee. 

"  I  seek  the  pearl,"  the  diver  said, 
"  To  deck  the  young  bride's  brow, 

While  flow'rs  still  bloom  around  her  path, 
While  Love  still  breathes  his  vow.'' 

Oh,  diver,  can  those  pearls  forbid 
That  brow  with  care  to  ache  ? 


142 


POETIQAL  WOnKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


MB 


m^ 


Give  me  the  pearl  of  sweet  content 
That  peace  of  heart  can  make ! 

Oh  !  wherefore,  diver,  tempt  the  wave, 
Why  rashly  dare  the  sea  ? 

TJie  Hand  that  pearls  to  ocean  gave, 
Gave  other  gifts  to  thee. 

*'  I  seek  the  pearl,"  the  diver  said, 

"  To  gem  the  banquet  bowl, 
The  bowl  that's  crown'd  with  ruby  wine 

And  pledg'd  in  How  of  soiil !  " 
Oh,  prize  not  thus  that  gorgeous  bowl, 

Tho'  pearls  may  grace  its  brink — • 
The  plainest  cup  more  precious  is 

That  gives  the  weary  drink. 
Then,  diver,  tempt  not  thus  the  wave, 

Nor  dare  the  dang'rous  sea, 
Tho  Hand  that  pearls  to  ocean  gave, 

Gave  better  gifts  to  thee  I 


MELODY. 


i'?  ii(. 


Oh  !  that  song 
Still  prolong, 

It  breathes  of  bliss  and  pain  ; 
Of  pleasure  gone 
When  hearts  were  one 

That  now,  alas,  are  twain. 
But  that  strain 
Vv''eavc3  a  chain, 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LO  VEB. 


143 


Binding  hearts 
Coldness  parts, 
TiU  I  think 
Music's  link 

Makes  them  one  again  I 

Oh !  to  mo, 
Melody 

E«y  nature  seems  design'd 
The  last  found  tie, 
When  others  die, 

The  feeling  haart  to  bind  :   . 
Friends  we  love 
False  may  prove, 
Hopes  decay — 
But  some  lay 
In  soothing  fail 
May  oft  recaM 

The  time  when  both  were  kind. 

Then  for  me, 
Melody, 

Pour  thy  healing  balm  ; 
O'er  the  strife 
Of  troubled  life 

Breathe  thy  holy  calm  : 
Triumph  thino 
How  divine ! 
For  in  the  day 
Worlds  decay, 
Still,  in  heaven  * 
Thou  art  given 

The  undying  palm. 

•  Wc  arc  told  there  is  music  in  heaven. 


I 

I 

I?- 


144 


POETICAL  WOIIKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE    FLAG    IS    HALF-MAST    HIGH. 

A    15.U.L\D    OF    TIIJJ    WALMKU   ■\\ATC1I/'- 


A  G'jAKD  of  honor  kept  its  watch  iu  "Wahner's  ancient  hall, 
And  sad  and  silent  was  the  ward  beside  the  Marshal's  pall ; 
The  measured  tread  beside  the  dead   thro'  echoing   space 

n.iii>-ht  tell 
How  solemnly  the  round  was  paced  by  lonely  sentinel  ; 
But  in  tlie  guard-room,  down  below,  a  wai'-worn  veteran  gray 
Kecounted  all  Tni-:  Hkuo's  deeds,  through  many  a  glorious 

day  : 
How,  'neath  the  red-cross  flag  ho  made  the  foes  of  ]?ritain 

"  Though  now,  for  liiui,"  the  veteran  said,  "  that  flag  is  half- 
mast  high  1  " 

"I  mark  one  da;/,  when  far  away  the  Duke  on  duty  went, 
That  Soult  came  reconnoitering  our  front  with  fie-rce  intent ; 
But  when  his  ear  caught  up  our  cheer,  the  cause  he  did 

divine. 
He  could  not  doubt  why  that  bold  shout  v;as  ringing  up  the 

line  ; 
He  felt  it  was  tlie  Duke  come  back,  his  lads  to  reassure, 
And  our  position,  weak  before,  he  felt  was  then  secure, f 

*  Arthur,  Fielil-MiirsluU  the  Dnko  of  Wellington,  died  on  the  14th  of  Sep- 
tember, 18')'2,  ill  \\'a!mer  (';isth\  wlieie  hi-^  Viody  lay  in  Btate  under  a  guard  of 
honor. 

t  Tliis  ineideiit,  which  oeenrred  in  the  Pyrenees,  i.s  rehited  in  Xniiier's  "  lli-j 
tory  of  the  reniiisiil;ir  ^Var,'' 


POETICAL  WOKKS  OF  .SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


145 


IVci 


He  beat  retreat,  while  wc  did  beat  advance,  and  made  him  fiy 
Before  the  eoiuiuoring  flag— that  now  is  drooping  half-mast 
high ! " 

And  truly  might  the  soldier  say  ms  presence  ever  gave 
Assurance  to  the  most  assured,  and  bravery  to  the  bravo  ; 
His  prudence- tempered  valor— his  eagle-sighted  skill, 
And  calm  resolves,  the  measure  of  a  hero  went  to  fill. 
Fair  Fortune  flew  before  him  ;  'twas  conquest  where  ho 

came — • 
For  Victory  wove  her  chaplet  in  the  magic  of  his  name, 
But  while  his  name  thus  gilds  the  past,  the  present  wakes  a 

To  see  his  flag  of  glory  now— but  drooping  half-mast  high  I 

In  many  a  bygone  battle,  beneath  an  Indian  sun, 

That  flag  was  borne  in  triumph  o'er  the  sanguine  plains  ho 

won  ; 
Where'er  that  flag  he  planted,  impregnable  became, 
As  Torres  Yedras'  heights  have  told  in  glittering  steel  and 

flame. 
'Twas  then  to  wild  Ambition's  Chief  ho  flung  the  gauntlet 

down, 
And  from  his  iron  grasp  retrieved  the  ancient  Spanish  crown  ; 
H(J  drove  him  o'er  the  Pyrenees  with  Victory's  swelling  cry, 
Before  the  red-cross  flag— that  now  is  drooping  half-mast 

high ! 

And  when  once  more  from  Elba's  shore  the  Giant  Chief 

broke  loose, 
And  startled  nations  waken'd  from  the  calm  of  hollow  truce. 
In  foremost  post  the  British  host  soon  sprang  to  arms  again, 
And  Fate  in  final  balance  held  the  world's  two  foremost  men. 


lU 


146 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVER. 


The  Chieftains  twain  might  ne'er  again  liave  need  for  aught 

to  do, 
So,  once  foi-  all,  we  won  the  fall  at  glorious  Waterloo  ; — 
The  work  was  done,  and  Wellington  his  saviour-sword  laid 

by. 

And  now,  in  grief,  to  mourn  our  Chief — the  flag  is  half-mast 
high  I 


HOW  OFT  HAVE   V\'3^  WANDER'D. 


How  oft  have  we  wander'd  thro'  Lara's  sweet  vale. 

Where   thy  vows,   plighting  truth,   were   but  meant  to 
deceive, 
Oh !  why  didst  thou  breathe  so  delusive  a  tale  ? 

Oh  !  why  did  poor  Kathleen  so  fondly  believe  ? 
'Twas  here  that  together  at  evening  we  came, 

And  then  wonldst  thou  vow  that  thj  heart  was  my  throno 
In  vain  does  thy  Kathleen  now  call  on  thy  name, 

'Tis  silence  that  mesits  me,  and  I  am  alone. 


Or,  if  silence  be  broV       it  is  by  the  note 

Of  some  bird  to  hi    mate,  that  like  rapture  appears, 
While  around  me  the  soul-melting  melodies  float, 

I  answer  the  music  of  joy  with  my  tears. 
But  the  winter  will  come,  and  the  birds  cease  to  sing, 

And  the  bleak  howling  wind  sweep  the  leaves  from  the 
bough, 
Then,  Lara,  my  woes  to  thy  valley  I'll  bring, 

Deserted  and  sad,  as  poor  Kathleen  is  now.  • 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


Ul 


auglit 


rcl  laid 
Lf-mast 


lut  to 


iirono 


k 


)m  the 


H 


MY  OAVN  OLD  MAN. 


Tho'  summer  liath  ta'en  flight  from  my  old  mau, 
Yet  aiitumu  falletU  light  on  my  own  old  man  ; 

The  sear  and  yellow  leaf 

Hath  brought  its  share  of  grief, 

For  time  ^vill  play  the  thief 
With  my  own  old  man. 

A  sigh  I  sometimes  hear  from  my  own  old  man, 
And,  maybC;  mark  a  tear  from  my  old  man  ; 

To  some  passing  thought,  the  eyo 

"Will,  in  tender  drops  reply — ■ 

And  'tis  mine  to  kiss  them  dry 
From  my  own  old  man. 

Yet  thiuk  not  he's  a  mumper,  my  own  old  !uan, 
Oh,  ;io  !  he'll  fill  a  bumper,  my  own  old  ixxu  ; 

In  the  feast  of  happy  friends, 

"Where  wine  with  humor  blends, 

Oh,  the  spirit  still  unbends 
Of  my  own  old  man  I 

Yv^hile  we  are  spar'd  together,  my  own  old  man. 

In  our  heart's  own  sunny  -weather,  my  own  old  man, 

Our  love  shall  ne'er  be  riv'n. 

But,  iDure  as  when  'twas  giv'n, 

It  will  go  with  us  to  heaven, 
My  own  old  man  I 


*'. 


148 


POETICAL  WoJiKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER, 


THE  SENTINEL  OF  THE    ALMA. 


~h 


^f||W" 


■ 


On  !  Katty  (lyra,  are  you  sJecinu'  ? 

Faith  it's  myself  that's  that  same, 
For,  on  sentry,  the  guard  I  am  keepin', 

And  if  I  shoukl  doze  who's  to  blame  ? 
For  I'm  tired  all  day  with  the  fightiu' 

On  Alma's  proud  heights  gra-ma-vhrei', 
And  some  lloosiiins,  at  this  present  writiu', 

Are  sleepin'  far  sounder  than  me. 
For  I  kill'd  them,  my  jewel — • 
And  sure  'twoula  be  cruel, 

Only  they  did  intend  to  kill  me. 

Katty,  before  you  are  waking, 

I  wish  you  could  see  in  a  dhramo 
The  beautiful  care  I  was  takinj*' 

Of  one,  Katty  Nowlan  by  name  ; 
Your  picture  so  nate  in  the  locket, 

Which  I  wear  next  my  heart  night  and  day, 
I  put  in  my  hindmost  coat  pocket, 

For  fear  you'd  be  kilt  in  the  fray — 
For  sure  'twould  bo  cruel 
To  kill  you,  my  jewel. 

And  you,  all  the  time,  far  away. 

The  thieves  were  so  greedy  for  slaughter 

They  marked  ev'ry  yard  of  the  glen,* 
And  cut  down  the  trees  by  the  water. 

For  fear  they  should  shelter  our  men.f 

*  Distances  were  accurately  meaBured  by  tlic  Russians  all  along  the  approach 
to  their  intreucbuicuts,  to  iu.surc  the  accmatu  range  ot  their  gnus.      f  Fact. 


rOKTIVAL   WOUKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVKli. 


149 


But  when,  up  that  hill  boltUy  dashing, 

"We  charged  with.victovious  halloo, 
From  our  tire  and  our  steel,  brightly  flashing, 
The  vagabones  cut  their  dicks,  too  ; 
For  we  hunted  the  bear 
From  his  high  mountain  lair, 
"With  victory's  glorious  halloo  ! 


pproack 
Fact. 


I  KNOW  THAT  THE  SUMMER  IS  COME. 

THE   SONO   OF    TIIK   BUND    HUSBAND. 


I  KNOW,  love,  I  know  that  the  summer  is  come, 

I  scent  the  sweet  flowers,  I  hear  the  bees  hum, 

L  ead  me  forth,  my  own  love,  in  the  sun's  genial  rays, 

Thy  tenderness  more  than  my  darkness  repays. 

Oh  say  not,  sweet  love,  with  aftiiction  I'm  tried, 

AVhy  call  it  affliction  while  thou  art  my  guide  ? 

My  place  I'd  not  change  with  the  best  in  the  laud — 

^Yho  would  not  be  blind  to  bo  led  by  Ihy  hand ! 

Tho'  lost  now  to  me  is  the  rose's  bright  bloom, 
As  exquisite  still  is  its  balmy  perfume  ; 
So,  the  bloom  of  thy  lip  tho'  denied  to  mine  eye, 
The  fragrance  is  left  me  that  breathes  in  thy  sigh  ; 
Thv  voice  still  is  music,  and  mem'ry  supplies 
The  soft  light  that  dwells  in  thy  beautiful  eyes, 
Their  sweet  glance  of  pity,  oh  why  should  I  seek, 
"When  I  feel  the  warm  tear  that  is  press'd  to  my  cheek. 


i: 

'is  ■ 
I  if 


If* 

III 


1;^ 


fiS 


150 


POETICAL  ]V01ih'S  OF  SAMUEL   LOVER. 


P 


♦  « 


■ 


THE  MAID   OF  MALABAE. 

Tlio  Miiliibiir  IiuliaiiH  rclcnsc  cagcil  birds  ou  the  ncw-mado  grave. 


SrowLY  tliro'  the  cypress  gloom 

"Weeping  cjune  uii  ludiiiu  maid, 
Strewing  lluwers  o'er  a  tomb, 

There  a  captive  bird  she  Liid  ; 
There  soon  the  cage  to  ope', 

Tliere  to  let  the  captive  fly, 
Liice  the  spirit,  wing'd  -with  hope, 

(Soaring  to  its  native  sky. 

The  lonely  cypress  shade  along. 

How  strangel}^  mingled  on  the  gal^, 
The  sweetness  of  the  blithe  bird's  song — 

The  sadness  of  the  maiden's  wail ; 
Oh  !  where,  where  art  thou  ? 

Thou  art  gone,  my  joy  and  pride  : — 
Tho'  I  know  thou'rt  happy  now, 

I  wish  thee  at  thy  true  love's  side. 

The  open  cage  upon  tho  grave 

The  maidc!)  watch'd  with  tearful  eye, 

To  see  the  bird  his  bright  wing  wave. 
Like  hai)py  spirit  to  the  sky  ; 

It  flew — it  lun-er'd  o'er  the  tomb- 
Then  ilnii-r'd  to  i\u-  mourner's  hveinit  ; 

'••Sweet  l)ird/'  she  cried,  "be  this  thy  home- 
For,  oh,  it  is  a  vacant  nest!  " 


FOETWAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVE  It. 


151 


e. 


I'M  A  RANTING   ROVING  BLADE. 

TJIK  GtiinK's  soxc. 


I'm  a  rantinj?  rov.hig  bliido 

Of  novel-  a  thing  aviis  I  ever  afraid, 

I'm  a  gentleman  born  and  I  scorn  a  thrade, 

And  I'd  be  a  rich  man  if  my  debts  was  paid. 

But  ray  debts  is  worth  something,  this  truth  they  instil. 
That  pride  malces  uh  fall  all  against  our  will ; 
It  was  pride  that  broke  me— 1  was  happy  until 
I  was  ruin'd  all  out  by  my  tailor's  bill. 

I'm  the  luiest  guide  that  ever  you  see, 
I  know  ev'ry  plor-o  of  curosity. 
From  Thiganavauria  to  Tanderagee, 
And  if  you're  for  sport  come  along  wid  me  1 

I'or  I'll  lade  you  sportin'  round  about, 
AVe  vo  wild  ducks,  and  widgeon,  and  snipe,  and  throut, 
And  I  know  where  they  are  and  what  they're  about, 
And  when  they're  not  at  home  then  I'm  sure  they're  out. 

The  miles  in  this  country  much  longer  be, 
But  that  is  a  Ravin'  of  time,  you  see, 
For  two  of  our  miles  is  aiqual  to  three. 
Which  shortens  the  road  in  a  great  degree. 


I 


y 


lo'i 


l'i>F.Tlr\l,    WnUKS   I'V  S.\M{F.l.    l.iiVlli. 


And  the  roads  in  this  place  ia  so  plenty,  we  say, 
That  you've  iiothin-,'  to  do  but  to  find  your  way  ; 
If  vour  hurry'w  not  y;reat  and  you've  time  to  delay 
You  can  ^'o  tli<'  slioit  cut  tliat'Lj  the  long'est  way. 

And  I'll  .sliow  you  j,'o{)d  drinkin',  too, 
For  T  know  tho  place  where  the  whisky  grew, 
A  hnttlc  is  pxxl  when  it's  not  too  new, 
And  I'm  fond  i  f  (uh'     but  I'd  die  for  two. 


ll 


if 


'riiiutli  is  si-;iicc  when  liars  is  near. 
But  squeeliu'  is  plenty  when  pigs  you  ?<hear, 
And  mutton  is  hi^h  when  cows  ia  dear, 
And  rint,  it  is  scarce  four  times  a  year. 

Such  a  couuthry  for  growin'  you  ne're  did  1"  howld, 

"\Vo  grov/  rich  when  we're  poo}',  we  grow  hot  when  wo'rfl 

cow  Id  ; 
And  the  giils  tlu-y  know  bashfiiluetis  makes  us  grow  bowld, 
We  grow  young  when  we  like,  but  we  never  grov  owld. 


And  the  siviii  smidl  sinses  grows  natural  here, 
For  pratees  has  eyes  and  can  sec  ([uite  clear, 
And  the  kittles  is  sin;^ni'  with  scaldin'  tears, 
And  the  co.  n-liclds  is  listenin'  with  all  their  ears. 


But  along  with  sivin  sinses  we  have  one  more, 
Of  which  I  forgot  to  tell  you  before, 
It  is  non.<en>:r  spontaneously  gracin'  our  shore, 
And  I'll  tell  YOU  the  rest  when  I  think  of  more. 


I'OKTICAL  WORKS  OF  t^AMVEL  I.OVEH, 


153 


I'M  NOT  MYSELF  AT  ALL. 


v\'o'  r« 


wUl, 


Oh,  I'm  not  mvHelf  ut  nil, 

MuUy  dour,  Molly  donr, 
I'm  not  myself  iit  all ! 

Nothin'  carin',  nothiu'  kuowiu', 

"lis  aflhor  you  I'm  goin', 

Faith  your  shadow  'tis  I'm  j^ruwin', 
Molly  dear, 

And  I'm  not  ij.j  s^lf    it  all ! 

Th'  other  dav  I  went  ■■  onfessin', 

And  I  ask'd  I'^e  mther' :  ble.ssin'; 
"But,"  says  I,  "d     '!  '^i-ve  me  one  iutiiely, 

For  I  fretted  so  last  year 

But  the  half  o'  me  is  here, 
St)  give  the  other  half  to  Molly  Brierly  :" 

Oh,  I'm  not  myself  at  all  I 


I* 


i 


Oh,  I'm  not  myself  at  all, 

Molly  dear,  Molly  dear, 

My  appetite's  so  small. 
I  once  could  pick  a  goose, 
But  my  buttons  is  no  use. 
Faith  my  tightest  coat  is  loose, 
Molly  dear. 

And  I'm  not  myself  at  all  I 
If  thus  it  is  I  waste. 
You'd  betther,  dear,  make  haste. 


I 


154 


rOKTlCM.   WuliKS   OF  SAM  U El.  l.OVKli. 


Buiuro  your  lovev'.s  gone  uway  iutirely  ; 

II'  vcni  (lon'fc  soon  (;liiin<'e  vour  luiud, 

Not  ii  bit  of  ni(.'  you'll  tiud — • 
And  v.ii;d  'iid  you  tUiuk  o'  that,  Moily  Brierly  ?- 

Oh,  I'm  not  niY.seli'  at  all ! 


Oh,  my  shadow  on  the  wall, 

Molly  dear,  ]Molly  deal*, 
Isn't  like  myself  at  all. 

l'\;r  I've  got  so  veiy  thin, 

Myself  says  'tisn't  him, 

But  that  purty  giii  so  slim, 
Molly  dear, 

And  I'm  not  myself  at  alii 

If  thu>'  I  smaller  grew, 

All  fretting,  dear,  for  yon., 
*Tis  you  should  make  me  up  the  daficieney ; 

80  just  let  Father  Taali', 

]\£ake  }ou  my  betther  half. 
And  you  will  not  the  worse  of  the  addition  be- 

Oh,  I'ni  not  mvself  at  all ! 


S 


I'll  be  not  myself  at  all, 

Molly  dear,  Molly  dear, 

Till  you  my  own  I  call ! 

Since  a  change  o'er  me  there  oame, 
Surci  you  niight  change  your  name — 
And  'twould  just  conic  to  the  same, 

jMolly  dear, 
'Twoulu  just  come  to  the  same  : 
For,  it*yoii  and  I  were  one, 
All  confusion  would  be  j'-one, 

And  'twould  .sanplify  the  matther  intirely ; 


Ii 


tk-_.- 


roKTlVAL  IJOA'iv.b'  OF  SAMUEL  LOYKli. 

Aud  'twould  save  us  so  much  bother, 
"When  we'd  both  be  one  another— 
So  listen  now  to  ravson,  Molly  Brierly  ; 
Oh,  I'm  not  myself  at  all ! 


155 


S^YEET  HARP  OF  THE  DAYS  THAT  AEE  GONE. 

TO    THH   IIUSII    HABP. 


On,  {^ive  me  one  strain 
Of  that  wild  harp  again, 

In  melody  proudly  its  own ! 
Sweet  harp  of  the  days  that  are  gone  ! 
Time's  wide-wastiug  wing 
Its  cold  shadow  may  fliug 

Where  the  hght  of  the  soul  hath  no  part ; 
The  sceptre  and  sword 
Both  decay  with  their  lord— 

But  the  throne  of  the  bard,  is  the  heart. 

And  hearts,  v*hile  they  beat 

To  thy  music  so  sweet, 

Thy  glories  will  ever  prolong, 

Land  oi  honor  and  beauty  and  song ! 

The  beauty,  whoso  sway 

AVoke  the  bard's  votive  lay. 

Hath  gone  to  eternity's  sliado, 

While,  fresh  in  its  fame,  • 

Lives  the  song  to  her  name, 

Which  the  minstrel  immortal  hath  made  I 


loG 


rOK'lbM.    WOUKS  iijr  SAMfKL    l-OVKU. 


BETWEEN  MY  SLEEVE  AND  ME 


My  Katty,  sweet  enslaver, 

'Twas  loth  I  was  to  lave  her, 
1  made  luy  best  endeavor  to  keep  my  courage  high  ; 

]>ut  when  she  softly  spoke  nie 

I  thought  lh(!  griff  would  (thoke  ine, 
For  i>ride  it  would  ivvoko  the  tear  was  rising  to  my  ey^  , 

l?ut,  as  llie  grief  grew  stronger, 

I  daretl  not  linger  longer. 
One  kiss  ! — sure  'twas  not  wrong  before  I  rush'd  away  to  ,iea  ; 

No  one  could  then  discover 

The  weakness  of  the  lover, 
And,  if  n»y  grief  ran  over — 'twas  between  my  sleeve  and  me. 


Oil  I  "twouLl  l)e  hard  believing 

'How  fond  I'.earts  may  be  gi-ieving 
AVhen  taking  or  when  giving  merry  jokes  with  eoiiu-ades  gay, 

"While  deeper  thoughts  are  straying, 

Some  distant  land  away  in, 
Like   wand'ring  pilgrims  praying  at  some  shrine  that's  fur 
awav, 

"When  merry  cups  are  ringing, 

I  join  the  round  of  singing, 
To  lielp  the  joyous  winging  of  the  sportive  evening's  glee  ; 

But  when  the  mirth  is  over, 

My  sadness  none  discovei", 
For,  if  n»y  "rief  run«  over — 'tis  between  my  sleeve  and  mo, 


POETICAL   WoUh'S   or'  .sAMI'KL   LOVKH. 


157 


WHEN  FIRST  I  OVER  THE  MUt'NTAIN  TROD. 


AViiL-N  iivst  I  oYor  the  inouiitiiiu  ti'ol, 

How  bri<;lit  the  lloN.ers,  liow  grccu  tUo  sod, 

The  breeze  was  whi«p'riiig  of  soft  delij^Ut, 

Aiul  the  fountains  spavkled  like  diamonds  bright. 

But  now  I  wuudcr  o'er  the  uiouutaiu  lone, 
The  llow'rs  arc  d looping,  their  fragrance  gone. 
The  breeze  of  morn  like  a  wail  appears, 
And  the  dripping  fountain  seems  weeping  tears. 

And  are  yo  changed,  oh,  ye  lovely  hills? 
Less  sparkling  are  ye,  bright  mountain  rills? 
Does  the  fragrant  bloom  from  the  llow'r  depart?— 
No— there's  nothing  changed  but  this  breaking  lieart. 


I 


LARRY  O'GAFF. 


Laruy  O'Gvff  was  a  bravo  boy  for  marching, 

His  instep  was  large— but  his  income  was  small ; 
So  he  set  up,  one  day,  as  a  soldier  of  fortune— 

The  meaning  of  which  is— no  fortune  at  all. 
In  battles,  bombardments  and  t^ieges  he  grew  up, 
Till  he  didn't  much  care  if  towns  Ilourish'd  or  blew  up, 
And  his  maxims  in  life— for  be  pick'd  one  or  two  up— 
Were  short,  sweet  and  simple  for  Larry  OXiaff. 


I  ■ 


ir,s 


roK'n<;.\L  wonhs  of  samukl  loyeii. 


1% 


'"  If  your  parse  it  \h  slendcj-,"  says  Larr},  "  'tis  better 

To  owe  a  small  Irille  than  want  a  great  deal ; 
If,  s()lioitinf»  cash,  a  solicitor's  letter, 

Or  your  mereer,  lualieiously  make  au  appeal — 
Look  sad,  and  say  '  Sir,  your  account  shall  be  paid 
Now  luy  uncle  is  dead  and  my  fortune  is  made  ; ' 
Tlien  order  some  mourning — proceedings  are  stay'd, 
And  black's  genteel  wearing,"  says  Larry  O'GaiY. 

Says  Larry,  "  Love  ail  men — except  an  attorney  : 

The  ladies  without  an  exception  at  all  ; 
But  beware  of  a  widow  on  love's  mazy  journey — 

For,  mostly,  they've  seven  small  cJiUdrc,  that  squall  : 
And  then,  from  those  eyes  that  love's  glances  have  darted, 
Tliey  sometimes  rain  show(n-s — and  sham  broken-hearted. 
Deploring  the  loss  of  'th<^  dear  man  dcparled  ;' 

Oh !  them  widows  are  sarpiuts!"  says  Larry  O'GalT. 

"  But  if  with  some  charming  young  creature  you'd  ruu  away, 
Court  her  fat  mother — a  middle-aged  dame, 

AVliile  her  daughter,  up  staiis.  ■..,  tii(  n  ;):H'king,  like  fun  away, 
A  small  change  of  clothe-;,  before  cli:ingiug  her  name  ; 

j\[amma  smiles  resistanc(! — but  yit-lds  in  amaze, 

You  rush  for  a  license  to  savti  all  delays  ; 

But  go — round  the  corner  with  Miss,  in  a  chaise, 
And  then,  '  heigh  for  Gretna  !'  "  says  Larry  O'GalT. 

"Your  wife  is  cut  olT  with  a  shilling,"  says  Lanw, 

"  But  Providence  spares  her  an  old  maiden  aunt, 
"Who  hates  all  the  brazen  young  women  who  marry, 
Tl'.o'  she,  all  her  life,  has  been  grieving  she  can't. 
]lound  her  you  must  Hatter  and  wheedle  and  twist, 
Let  her  snub  you  in  company^— cheat  you  at  whist — 
But  you'll  wiu  the  odd  trick  when  the  Legacy  list, 
Sliows  her  will  all  in  favor  of  Larry  0"Gall'." 


POETICAL  WORKti  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


151) 


TilE  MINSTREL  TO  HIS  LADY  LOVE. 


A  !^IiNS'£UEL,  fiuin'a  by  Love's  soft  wing, 

Thus  to  his  lady-iovG  did  siiio-— 

«'  Oh,  would  I  were  thy  hite's  sweet  string. 

To  be  so  gently  touch'd  by  thee  ; 
Oh  !  never  to  thy  gentle  hand 
That  lute  was  more  in  sweet  command 
Than  I  should  be,  to  understand 

The  slightest  wish  or  look  from  thee. 

"  Oh  !  would  I  were  thy  falcon  fair, 
To  cleave  for  thee  the  highest  air, 
And  to  n)y  lady  downward  bear 

Tho  heron's  wing  her  plume  to  be  : 
To  be  cast  off*  the  bird  may  rue, 
Yet  Uy— whene'er  he's  bid  by  you  ; 
But  ah,  with  instinct  far  more  true. 

He  hears  the  sweet  recall  from  thee. 

"  Oh  !  liappy  is  thy  faithful  hound. 
To  rove  with  thee  the  sylvan  ground. 
Around  ihce  in  wild  joy  to  bound, 

All  fondly-watchful,  guarding  thee  : 
No  danger  deep  could  make  him  lly, 
No  !  at  thy  feet  he'd  bravely  die— 
Oh  !  lady  dear,  and  so  would  I, 

For  one  bright  tear  bestow 'd  on  me. 

*  "  Cast  off"— a  ti;nn  in  hawking, 


!®i 


IGO 


I'OKTICAL  WoliKS  t)F  SAM  I  1:1.    IMVKfi. 


"Ami  lil;t!  thy  lute,  nv/  deepest  t'>nc 

Is,  at  thy  bidding",  rJl  tbiue  own  ; 

Or  would'ht  tliou  have  irie  niirtiifiil  grown, 

Thou  need'st  but  give  a  smile  t(i  me. 
And  like  thy  hawk,  thy  lure  *  should  bo 
The  dearest  thing  on  earth  to  me — 
Thy  dogV-  untaught  lidelity  ^ 

Is  not  more  true  than  mine  to  t.!'.;e  I  ' 


JACK  AND  THE  BEARSKIN. 

A   BALTIC    STAVE. 


A  PAiLon  and  his  lass 

S;d.  o'er  their  parting  glass. 
For  tli>>  jolly  tar  had  volunteer'd  to  go  to  soa, 

At  the  sailing-signal  flying 

His  loving  lass  was  sighing, 
And  she  said,  "  I  fear  you  never  will  come  baelv"  to  me. 

My  heart  is  cold  with  fear, 

That  you,  my  sailor  dear, 
In  the  perils  of  the  battle  and  the  deep  should  be  ; '' 

"  Oh,"  says  Jack,  "you'll  not  be  cold 

When  your  own  sailor  bold 
U'ill  bring  you  back  a  bearskin  from  the  Baltic  Sea." 

With  gloi'y  soon  did  Jack 
From  the  Baltic  sea  come  back, 
With  such  a  lot  of  bearskins,  that  the  proud  Citie 

*  "  Lure  "—n  fcnn  in  liawking. 


POKTIIM.    WoliKS  i>F  SAMUEL   LOVER. 


IGl 


"With  a  f?ol(l  box  did  prcRent  liiiu, 

And  likewise  coinplimeut  him 
NVith  the  frfodom  of  the  Ancient  SKiNSEiib'  Company. 

Then  Jack  lie  went  to  find 

The  girl  he  left  behind, 
"Won't  she  be  glad  to  see  me,  bless  hev  heart,"  says  he, 

"  When  she  proves  her  sailor  blade 

Kept  the  promise  that  he  made 
To  bring  her  back  a  bearskin  from  the  Baltic  Sea." 

When  Jack  to  her  appear 'd, 

A  most  enormous  beard 
And  head  of  hair  transmogrified  him  so,  yon  see. 

That  his  sweetheart  never  knew  him 

Till  at  her  feet  lie  threw  him, 
All  rolling  on  a  bearskin  from  the  Baltic  sea. 

Says  he,  "I  see  (my  eyes  !) 

The  cause  of  your  surprise. 
You  wonder  why  your  sailor  should  so  hairy  be, 

But  my  hair  did  thus  increase 

With  using  of  Bear's  grease. 
Such  a  quantity  we  slaughter'd  in  the  Baltic  Sea  1 " 

Then  jack  gave  her  a  smack, 
And  the  girl  she  cried  "  good  lack, 
You're  rougher  than  a  sweeping-brush,  I  vow,"  says  she  ; 
Says  Jack,  '^ 'twas  rather  rougher 
How  we  made  the  bears  to  sufier. 
When  we  were  a  sweeping  of  the  Baltic  sea ! " 
Says  she,  "  what  will  they  do 
For  that  bear's  grease  that  you 
Have  exhausted  so  much?"— "Oh,"  says  Jack,  to  .she, 
"  With  hair  they  wont  want  rigging. 
For  we  gave  them  such  a  wigging 
As  will  U'.st  them  for  some  time  in  the  Baltic  Sea  1  " 


r; 


1G2 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LO  VEIi. 


fcii'* 


HOPE  RETUENS  AGAIN. 


Oh,  sigh  not  thus,  so  broken-hearted, 
Over  hopes  departed, 

Hope  returns  again  ; 
Behold,  to  shame  thy  faithless  sighing, 
Yon  bright  swallow  flying — 

Summer  conies  again. 
And  dost  thou  fear 
He  who  rules  the  changing  year — 

And  guides  the  wild  bird  o'er  the  sea- 
Will  leave  the  human  lieart  in  sorrow  ? — • 
No,  no  !  trust  to-morrow  ; 

Hope  will  come  to  thee. 


And  when  the  desert-thirst  is  raging, 
"Where  no  fount  assuaging 

Cheoi.s  the  burning  plains, 
Then  the  trav'iler,  faint  and  dying, 
Some  green  spot  espying, 

The  living  water  gains ! 
And  dost  thou  think 
At  Hope's  fount  v)c  may  not  drink  ? — 

Oh  !  weary  pilgrim  l)end  thy  knee. 
And,  at  her  sacred  fountain  kneeling, 
Own  with  holiest  fooling, 

There  arc  green  sjiots  for  thee  ! 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUKL  LOVEIl. 


ica 


IT  MAY  BE  YET. 


«'  It  may  be  yel,  it  may  be  yet  :  " 

How  ol't  that  dreamy  thouglit  bath  charmM ! 
"  It  may  be  yet,  it  may  be  yet," 

Hath  oft  despair  disarm'd. 
The  Sun,  tho'  clouded  all  the  day, 

lu  glory  bright  may  set ; 
So  may  we  watch  for  Love's  bright  ray, 
And,  hopeful  thro'  the  darkness,  say, 

"  It  may  be  yet,  it  may  be  yet, 

My  own  dear  love,  it  may  be  yet ! " 


The  sailor,  by  some  dangerous  shore, 

Impatient  on  a  breezeless  tide, 
AYithiu  tho  breakers'  warning  roar 

That  tells  where  dangers  bide. 
Undaunted  still,  with  hopeful  cave 

His  steadfast  eye  is  set 
To  watch  the  coming  breeze  so  fair — 
That  breath  from  Heaven— that  whispers  there, 

"  It  may  be  yet,  it  may  be  yet. 

Oh  !  sailor  bold,  it  may  be  yet !  " 

The  weeping  maid,  in  sunlit  bow'r, 

Whose  sparkling  dew-drops  mock  her  teart^, 

Waking  her  harp's  pathetic  pow'r 
Some  strain  of  gladness  hears  : 


i 


1C4 


VuKTliAh    WOliKS   OF  SAMVKL  LOVER. 


As  if  SDinc  pitying'  uiigor.s  wing-, 

O'or  chonls  with  teav-drops  wet, 
Hivil  f^cntly  swcjit  Wm  wnilinj,'  strinjif, 
Aiul  bado  one  tone  of  prouusu  ring 
"  It  nmy  be  yet,  it  may  be  yet, 
Oh  !  v,eo'">iTi'..>'  maid,  it  may  be  yet !  " 


-"I  i 


OH!  THAT  GOLDEN  STEAND. 


WuERE  is  the  Hglit  of  that  azure  eye 

That  beara'd  with  heaven's  own  blue  ? 
Clouded,  betimes,  like  an  April  slcy 
AVith  sunshine  peeping  through  ; 
But  when  the  tear  had  pass'd  away. 
How  heav'nly  bright  wan  the  smile's  sweet  ray 
Oh!  that  golden  strand, 
In  a  distant  land- 
There  will  fond  memory  stray  I 


Where  is  the  voice  that  I  used  to  hear  ? 

Whosi;  sound  was  Love's  own  spell, 
Greeting  the  ear  with  a  modest  iVur, 

As  it      id  it  lov'd  me  ^  .11. 
And  then    twas  hush'd— as  if  hali  afraid 
Of  the  joy  it  felt  and  the  joy  it  made — 
Oh  !  that  gol<"   a  strand, 
In  a  distant  land — 
There  let  mv  mcmor.     well! 


POKTIUAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUKL  l.OVKlt. 


1G5 


FISH  Ell  MAN. 

THE  SONa  OF  THE  laSHiaiMAN's  WIFE,  A3  SUE  WKWES  H13  NET. 


■ 


Thou  art  far  away  at  sea, 

Fisliermau  ; 

My  blessing  Avait  on  thee, 

Fisherman  ; 

The  early  moon  hath  set, 

But  the  stars  will  light  thee  yet, 

To  east  thy  busy  mt, 

Fisherman. 

And  fear  not  for  thy  net, 

Fisherman  ; 

It  never  fail'd  thee  yet, 

Fisherman  ; 

Its  meshes  will  not  part, 

For,  oh,  they're  made  with  art — 

As  if  to  keep  thy  heart. 

Fisherman. 

And  fear  not  on  the  sea. 

Fisherman  ; 
For  I  will  pray  for  thee 

Fisherman ! 
Amid  the  billows'  strife, 
Ne'-'  "  tremble  for  thy  life — 
For  Hoaven  will  hear  thy  w      I 
Fisherman. 


I 


i 


'.i' 

w 


!■  I 


im 


i'UETlCAL  ^OUKU  OF  HAMUFL  LOYKli. 


EVELEEN. 


Tiidue's  not  a  cliann  that  liath  a  clwcliiug 

On  tlio  land  or  on  tho  sea, 
But  my  luncy's  fondly  telling 
To  my  heart,  'tis  hko  to  thee  ; 
Tho  sea-bird  bright, 
In  dazzling  flight 
AVhen  circling  round  my  boat  I've  seen, 
Its  snowy  wings 
To  mcm'ry  brings 
The  soft  fair  neck  of  Evclecu. 

"When  tho  moonbeam  on  tho  billow, 

Sleeping  o'er  the  deep,  I've  seen — 
Like  to  beauty  on  her  pillow — 
Then  I've  thought  of  Eveleeu. 

But  her  splendor 

Is  less  tender 
Than  some  eyes  that  I  have  seen  ; 

Deep  as  ocean 

My  devotion 
For  the  lovely  Eveleen. 


True  love  never  was  erratic  ; 

He  hath  wings — but  hath  not  llown. 
True  love  ne'er  was  democratic  ; 

He  must  always  reign  alone. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


1G7 


Could  affection 

Make  cloction, 
Could  my  heart  but  chooso  its  qucon, 

One  girl  alone 

Should  have  the  throne, 
And  her  sweet  name  is  Eveleen. 


THE  BARD'S  FAREWELL. 

TO — 


Farewell,  oh  farewell,  but  whenever  you  give 

A  thought  to  the  days  that  are  gone, 
Of  the  bright  sunny  things  that  in  memory  live 

Let  a  thought  of  the  minstrel  be  one. 
The  hope  is  but  humble— he  asks  but  a  share, 

But  a  part  of  thy  memories  to  be, 
While  no  future  to  him  can  in  rapture  compare 

To  the  past,  made  enchanting  by  thee. 

Yes,  yes,  thou'lt  remember  the  strain  that  he  sang, 

And  wish  that  the  minstrel  were  nigh  ; 
Thou  wilt  turn  to  the  place  where  his  harp  med  to  hang- 

And  gaze  on  the  void  with  a  sigh. 
And  tho'  glory  may  Avelcome  the  bard  on  his  way, 

Less  pleasing  the  loud  voice  of  fame. 
Than  the  soft  gentle  sigh  that  rewarded  his  lay 

When  it  first  rose  in  praise  of  thy  name. 


1C8 


POETICAL  WOnKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE  CAPTIVE  ROYER. 


One  morn,  as  liercely  blew  the  blast, 

Amid  the  l)re;ikers'  roar, 
A  rover  came,  and  feii.rless,  cast 

His  grapliiig  ou  the  shore  ; 
But  th(3  rover,  too,  was  grappled  there, 

A  captive  soon  was  he  ; 
For  he  saw  and  loved  a  maiden  fair 

Who  dwelt  beside  the  s(.'a. 


They  woo'd  and  wed,  and  years  soon  flod. 

And  wlien  a  baby's  smile 
'WiiH  beaming  in  the  rover's  face. 

He  seem'd  so  sad  the  while  ; 
He  thought  upon  his  sinless -child, 

And  look'd  across  the  sea — 
For  he  fear'd  the  day  a  rover  wild 

His  baby  boy  should  be. 


He  kiss'd  the  chiUl,*and  gave  it  back 

Into  its  mother's  arms  ; 
"One  other  cruise,"  he  saitl,  "  and  then 

Farewell  to  guilt's  alarms  !  " 
He  call'd  his  band — he  piped  each  hand  ; 

His  sail  swept  far  from  shore  : 
But  storm  or  strife  bereft  the  wife — 

The  rover  camo  uo  more. 


POETICAL  WOllKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVKR. 


im 


THE  JAUNTING  CAR. 


A  FULL  and  a  faithful  accouut  I'll  siug 

Of  the  wonderful  tilings  that  in  Ireland  arc  ; 
And  first  I  would  fain  to  your  notice  bring 

That  magic  contrivance,  a  Jaunting  Car. 
For  its  magic  is  great,  as  I'll  soon  impart, 

And  naught  can  compare  to  it  near  or  far  ; 
"Would  you  find  the  soft  side  of  a  lady's  heart. 

Just  f^it  by  her  side  on  a  Jaunting  Car  : 
The  lordly  brougham,  the  ducal  coach, 

jMy  lady's  chariot,  less  speedy  are 
To  make  their  way  to  the  church,  they  say, 

Thau  a  nice  little  drive  on  a  Jaunting  Car. 

The  Greeks  and  the  ilomans  fine  cars  display'd, 

If  to  history  you'll  let  me  go  back  so  far ; 
But,  the  wretches,  in  these  it  was  war  tkcy  made, 

AVhilo  'tis  love  that  is  made  on  a  Jaunting  Car. 
But  in  love,  as  in  war,  you  may  kill  your  man. 

And  if  you're  inclined  to  proceed  so  far, 
Just  call  him  out,  and  go  ride  Jibout 

A  mile  and  a  half  on  a  Jaunting  Car. 
Let  lovers  praise  the  moon's  soft  rays, 

The  falling  dew  or  the  rising  star, 
The  streamlet's  side  at  the  even-tide. 

But  give  me  the  side  of  a  Jaunting  Car. 

Ere  Cupid  was  taught  to  take  steps  with  arc, 
I  Little  staggering  bob,  as  most  babies  are,) 


170 


POETICAL   WOIiKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOYER. 


1 

C 

His  mother  sLe  bonj^lit  liiju  a  little  go-cart, — 

'Twas  tliG  earliest  lV)rni  of  the  Jaunting  Cai'. 
And  the  Avalking  gift  it  can  soon  impart 

To  all  ^vho  to  Cupid  inclined  are, 
If  you  would  walk  off  with  a  lady's  heart, 

Just  take  her  a  drive  oii  a  .launting  Car. 
The  cushions,  soft  as  the  t;!ic  that's  tokl, 

The  shafts  as  certain  as  Cupid's  are, 
The  springs  go  bump — and  your  heart  goes  jump, 

At  the  thumping  vows  on  a  Jaunting  Cai". 


OH!  NEVER  ASK  ME  "WHY? 


Ou  !  neve    ask  me  why  the  rose  is  red, 
Oh  !  never  ask  me  why  the  lily's  fair, 

Enough  for  me  to  know  that  Nature  shed 
Her  beauty  there — 

80,  never  ask  mo  "  why  ?  " 

Oh !  never  ask  me  why  I  love  the  night, 

And  why  the  bright  stars  hold  me  in  their  spell, 

For  why  I  love,  or  how  they  give  their  light, 
I  cannot  tell — 

So,  never  ask  me  "  why  ?  '' 

Oh !  never  ask  me  why  I'm  fond  of  thee  : — 

We  may  be  sure  of  much  we  can't  explain  ! 
I  only  know  'tis  joy  thy  face  to  see, 


?o  part  is  pain — 


But, 


never  asic  me 


\\ 


hv 


'j  " 


POETIVAL  WORKS  OF  ISAMUEL  LOVER. 


171 


OH!   GALLANT  SAILOR  BOY. 


Ou  !  gallant  sailoi*  boy, 

When  the  look-out  on  the  topmast  thou'rt  keeping, 
Proud  in  thy  daring  joy, 

Giving  no  thought  to  the  eyes  that  are  weeping, 
Weeping,  and  lifted  be 
In  fervent  prayer  for  thee, 
When  the  tempest's  roar 
Is  heard  on  shore, 

And  thy  mother,  ou  bended  kuee, 
Sinks,  with  a  sinking  heart, 

Till  the  heart  groweth  strong  in  its  silent  devotiou, 
Praying,  where'er  thou  art, 
That  Heaven  will  keep  thee  unharm'd  on  the  oceau  ; 
Sparing  the  widow's  joy, — 
Her  only  sailor  boy  ! 


spell, 


Oh !  gallant  sailor  boy, 

Safe  while  the  billows  around  thee  are  dashing; 
And  the  petrel,  with  noisy  joy, 

Shrieks  thro'  the  tempest  on  wing  wildly  Hashing- 
¥ov  other  wings  may  be 
(Tho'  all  unseen  by  thee) 
Call'd  by  the  pray'r 
Of  a  fond  heart  there, 

For  thy  mother,  on  bended  knee, 


172 


COETWAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVKli. 


Sinks,  \\\\}.x  u  sinking  lieavt, 

Till  tlui  lioiU't  groweth  strong  in  its  .silent  devotion, 
Priiying,  Avhere'ev  thou  iul, 

Tliiit  Heaven  will  keep  thee  nuharmVl  on  the  ocean ; 
Hparing  the  widow's  joy, — 
Her  only  sailor  boy ! 


m 


THE  ENCHANTBESS. 

TO 


Ou  !  wiiy  did  I  nitot  vnth  thee,  charmer, 

"Why  daro  the  yofc  ppell  .i'  thine  eye  ? 
Oh  !  Love,  why  for  conquest  thus  arm  her. 

And  forbid  that  the  vanquish'd  should  fly? 
She  hath  chann'd,  till  my  heart  I  did  give  her, 

In  return  she  hath  left  me  her  cliains  : 
The  Enchantress  is  gone — ali  I — for  ever — 

But  her  magic — her  magic  remains  I 


And  where  lay  the  might  of  her  ciiarming  ? 

'Twas  not  seeking  to  charm  you  at  all ; 
Her  frankness  all  caution  disarming. 

Till  you  felt  the  deep  pow'r  of  her  thrall. 
Her  eyes  when  they  wounded  look'd  kindly, 

'Twas  the  mirth  of  hor  lip  made  my  paiu  : 
She  is  gone  whom  I  worship'd  so  blindly, 

But,  Enchantress,  tliy  sjiclls  all  remain  ! 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


173 


HOW  TO  ASK  AND  HAVE. 


"  Ou,  'tis  time  I  should  tulk  to  your  mother, 

Sweet  Mary,"  says  I  ; 
•'  Oh,  don't  (alk  to  my  mother,"  says  Mary, 

Beginniug  to  cry  : 
"  For  my  mother  says  men  are  deceivers. 

And  never,  I  kuov/,  will  consent ; 
She  says  girls  in  a  hurry  who  marry 

At  leisure  repent." 

"  Then,  suppose  I  would  talk  to  your  father, 

Sweet  Mary,"  says  I ; 
"  Oh,  don't  talk  to  my  father,"  says  Mary, 

Beginniug  to  cry  : 
"  For  my  father,  ho  loves  me  so  dearly, 

He'll  never  consent  I  should  go — 
If  YOU  talk  to  my  father,"  says  Mary, 

"  Hc'U  surelv  sav  '  No.'  " 


"  Then  how  shall  I  get  you,  my  jewel  ? 

Sweet  ]Mary,"  says  I : 
"  If  your  father  and  mother's  so  cruel, 

Most  surely  I'll  di(; !  " 
"  Oh,  never  say  die,  dear,"  says  Mary  ; 

"  A  way  now  to  save  you,  I  see  : 
Suice  my  parents  are  both  so  contrary- — 

You'd  better  ask  mc" 


lU 


POETICAL  WOJiKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE  ROSE,  THE  ZEPHYIl,  AND  THE  DEWDROP 


"  AViLT  thou  Lc  mine,  my  pretty  Rose  ?  '' 

A  Dowdrop  said,  a,t  day's  declining  ; 
"  Thy  balmy  breath  invites  repose, 

"While  sparkling  stars  are  o'er  us  shining." 

Just  then  a  Zepljyr,  passing  by, 

Breathed  softly  on  the  Rose  a  sigh — 
The  trembling  leaves  her  doubts  disclose 

"What  shall  she  do, 

Between  the  two  ? — 

The  Zephyr,  and  the  sparkling  Dew. 


M 


m 


"Oh,  lovely  Rose,"  the  Zephyr  cried, 

"  Let  not  the  faithless  Dew  botrav  thee  : — 
He  calls  thee,  now,  his  blooming  bride. 
And  tempts  with  diamonds  to  array  thee  ; 
But,  sweet  one,  at  the  dawn  of  day 
The  faithless  Dew  will  fly  nway." — 
The  trembling  leaves,  &c.  &c. 


The  Dew  replied,  "Oh  ne'er  believe, 

Sweet  Rose,  that  Zephyr  so  engaging, 
His  soft  caress  of  balmy  eve 

Mav,  ere  the  morn,  be  turn'd  to  raerintr  : 
And  all  tlie  charms  he  sighs  on  now, 
At  morn  be  scatterM  from  the  i)ungii 
The  trembling  loaves,  kc.  kc. 


POETICAL  W01:KS  OF  SAMUKL  LOVER. 


175 


THE   GIllL  I  LEFT  BEHIND   ME. 


Tin:  hour  was  sad  I  left  the  maid, 

A  lingeriiij^f  farewell  taking, 
Her  sighs  and  tears  my  steps  delay'd — 

I  thought  her  heart  was  breaking  ; 
In  hurried  words  her  name  I  bless'd, 

I  breatlied  the  vows  that  bind  me, 
And  to  my  heart,  in  anguish,  press'd 

The  girl  I  left  beliind  me. 

Then  to  the  East  vro  bore  away 

To  win  a  name  in  story  ; 
And  thei-e,  where  dawns  the  sun  of  day. 

There  dawu'd  our  sun  of  glory ! 
J3oth  blaz'd  in  noon  on  Ai.ma's  height, 

AVhere,  in  the  post  assign'd  me, 
T  shar'd  the  glory  of  that  fight, 

,^  v<-  ,>t  girl  I  left  behind  me. 


Full  many  "  name  om*  banners  bore 

Of  former  d^geds  of  darirg. 
But  thev  were  Oj,'  tlx,  davs  of  vore. 

In  which  we  had  n  ■«  sharing  ; 
But  now,  our  laurels,  freshly  won. 

With  the  old  ones  shall  entwined  be, 
worthy  of  uiir  ^ircs,  each  sou. 

Sweet  girl  I  left  behind  mo. 


17« 


I'oF.TtfM.   WOUKS   or  S.KMrKL    LOVKK. 


Tlio  liopo  of  linal  victury 

AVithin  my  bosom  bm-niiij^, 
Is  iiiiii;jjlii);^'  with  sweet  tliouj^ht:,;  of  tlico 

Anil  of  my  fond  roturning  : 
But  Klionkl  I  no'cr  return  fi^ain, 

Still  worth  tliy  love  thou'lt  find  me, 
Dishonor's  breath  shall  never  stain 

The  imme  I'll  leave  behind  me  ! 


COiME  IJACK   TO  ME. 


"NVuY,  dearest,  dost  thou  linger 

Far  away  from  me  ? 
AVhiU;  pensive  mem'r\  ".s  tluger 

Ever  points  to  thee  ; 
Over  what  mountains  bounding, 

Over  what  silent  sea, 
Witli  daij'jcrs  chirk  surrounding? — 

Oh,  colli''  back  ii>  me  ! 

iJnt  darker  than  (he  danger 

That  dwells  upon  the  sea, 
The  thought,  that  some  fair  stranger 

^lay  cast  her  love  on  thco  ; 
Perchance  she's  now  bestowing 

Some  fatal  glance  on  thee, 
liovc-i-pt'lls  arotiiid  tlice  throwing' — • 

Oh,  como  back  to  me  I 


POETWAL  WOliKfi  OF  HAMUEL  LOVER. 


177 


TELL-TALES. 


m* 


Oh  !  *"  *:''t  you  remember, 

Long  time  a^^o, 
"When  the  patli  was  in  December 

Covcr'd  o'er  willx  snow  ? 
Then  we  had  a  Httle  walk, 
Then  we  had  a  Httle  talk, 
But  jealous  eyes  did  soon  divine 
The  footsteps  there  were  not  all  mine  :- 

Oh !  the  snow, 

The  tell-tale  snow, 
Long  time  ago ! 

Oh  !  don't  you  remember 

On  that  evening  fair, 
"When  tlie  jasmine  flowers  you  braided 

In  the  raven  hair  ? 
Homeward  then  I  thoughtless  stray 'd 
And  the  jasmine  tlow'rs  betray'd  ; 
For  well  the  jealous  glances  knew 
No  jasmine  in  our  garden  grew  : — 

Oh  !  the  flower, 

The  tell-tale  flower, 
Long  time  ago ! 

And  when  we  were  both  forbiddeii 

Ever  more  to  meet, 
Shiy,  httle  notes  were  hiden 

By  the  willow  seat. 


I 


178 


rniaicM.  wouks  of  s.\mui:i.  i.ovkii. 


Bui  vainly  for  u  nolo  we  Hou^lit  : — 
(JouUl  we  eaeli  othtii-  have  t'wrj^ot  ?— 
Ah  !  others  knew  us  well  as  we 
The  secret  of  that  hollow  tree  : — 
Oh  !  the  tree,  the  hollow  tree, 
It  betray 'd  both  you  aiicl  me, 
Loll*,'  time  ago ! 


■ii 


ABSENCE 

TO  • 


As  when  the  sun  withdraweth  quite, 
Then  all  is  night  ; 

'Tis  even  so  with  me, 

Parted  from  thee. 
The  faithful  (hiwu  of  morning  bright 
Brings  back  the  hght — 

But  to  illume  my  sorrow, 

There  is  no  morrow  1 

As  when  tlie  sea,  upon  the  strand. 
With  wavy  wand, 

IMarketh  where  she  hath  been, 

So  thou,  my  ciueen. 
Didst  leave  thy  trace  upon  my  heart 
Ere  thou  didst  part  : — 

The  tide  returns  again — 
But  thou  ! — ah  when  ? 


roi:ncAL  iiuy.-A.'  or  samulj.  i.oyku. 


170 


yiEl        NOT.  THOU   SAD  O: 


SIGHS. 


On  !  yicl'l  not,  thou  sad  one,  to  sij^Uk, 

Nor  mnrumr  at  Destiny's  will. 
Btl!')l(l,  for  each  pleasure  that  Hies, 

Another  replacing  it  still. 
Time's  wing,  were  it  all  of  -no  feather, 

Far  slower  would  be  in  its  flight  ; 
The  storm  gives  a  charm  to  fine  weather, 

And  day  would  seem  (  .thuut  night. 

Then  yield  not,  th  one,  to  sighs. 

When  we  look  on  some  lal  ••  that  repeats 

The  loveliness  bounding  its  shore, 
A  breeze  o'er  the  soft  surface  fleets, 

And  the  mirror-like  beauty  is  o'er  :— 
But  the  breeze,  ere  it  milled  the  deep, 

Pervading  the  odorous  bow'rs, 
Awaken'd  the  flow'rs  from  iheir  sleep, 

And  wafted  their  sweets  to  be  our's. 

Then  yield  not,  thou  sad  one,  to  sighs. 

Oh,  blame  not  the  change  nor  the  flight 

Of  our  joys  as  they're  pap:;ing  away, 
'Tis  the  swiftness  and  cliange  give  dehght — 

They  would  pall  if  permitted  to  stay. 
More  gaily  they  glitter-  in  Hying, 

They  perish  m  lustre  still  bright. 
Like  the  hues  of  the  dolphin,  in  dying, 

Or  the  humi    ug-bird's  wing  in  its  ilight. 
Then  yield  not,  thou  sad  one,  to  sighs. 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

iANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2> 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


Urn 

a. 


II  2.8 

II  3.2 
II  3.6 

114.0 


1.4 


II  2.5 
2.2 

2.0 


1.8 


1.6 


^  /APPLIED  IM/IGE     Inc 

^^_  'bjj   Lost    Main    street 

~-S  Wochesler.   New  York        14609       USA 

'-=  '  -'If )   48?  -  O.'OO   -  Phone 


180 


I'OKTIC '.I.    \yoli/\'->   (H-'  SiMUKL   }.OVr:U. 


NEYEimORE. 


Lovrr  ono,  -whon  I  saw  tliee  last, 
O'cv  the  billow  cauie  the  blast, 
Twili.'^ht  iin-ay  its  shadow  cast 

Over  the  shore. 
As  ori\vai\l  bore  my  bark  to  sea, 
And  backwaitl  tuni'd  my  gaze  on  thee. 
Something  coldly  wiiisner'd  me, 

«'  '^o — Nevermore." 
Was  it  fancy,  v/as  it  fear, 
Startled  thus  the  lover's  ear  ! 
( )r  would  fate  my  doom  foreshow 
In  that  mystic  voice  of  woe  ? 
Voice  of  woe,  prophetic  knell 
O'ov  that  satl,  that  last  farewell, 
For  I  saw  my  Isabel — 

Ah  ! — Nevermore  ! 

I'or  many  a  year  from  that  sad  day 
That  bore  me  from  my  love  away, 
Still  that  chilling  voice  would  say, 

"  No — Nevermore  1 " 
When,  iit  last,  the  tidings  came, 
]?earing  me  thy  blighted  name, 
Did  Love  light  another  flame ! 

Ah — Neverraoro. 
Nevermore  the  sparkling  spell 
In  this  monri\fnl  heart  pan  dwell  \ 


POKTICAL   WOUKS  t/F  SAMi'KL    LOYKlt. 


181 


Yet  tlie  shade  of  Bella's  iji-ace, 
Coldly  li:iuui..s  tlie  lonely  place  : 
Vain  the  challenge  Beauty  tries, 
From  bloomiug-  lipa  and  beajning  eyea, 
btiil  this  aohiug-  heart  replies, 

"  No — Nevermore  ! '' 


KITTY  :s[ACLr]n'j. 


Ov  the  beauties  of  old 

He  then  poets  have  told, 
But  I,  on  the  faiih  of  a  Christian,  more  pure, 

Abjure  all  the  lays 

Of  their  classical  days, 
For  my  own  Irish  beauty— sweet  Kitty  Machirc  ! 

Cleopatra,  the  gipsy — ■ 

Ariadne,  the  tipsy — 
Tho'  bumper'd  by  Bacchus  in  nectar  so  pure, 

AVere  less  worthy  a  toast 

Thau  the  beauty  I  boast, 
So,  in  bright  mountain-dew,  here's  to  Kitty  jMaclure ! 

Fair  Helen  of  Greece 

And  the  Roman  Liicrece, 
Compared  with  my  swan  were  but  geese,  I  ;nu  sure  : 

What  poet  could  speak 

Of  a  beauty  antique. 
Compared  with  ray  young  one  -sweet  Kitty  "Machire  ? 


18^ 


POETICAL   WOliKS  OK  SAMUKL  LOVEli. 


Oil,  sweet  Kitty, 

So  pretty,  so  witty, 
To  melt  you  to  pity  what  flames  I  endure  ; 

"While  I  sigh  ijjrtli  your  luimc, 

It  increases  my  flame, 
Till  I'm  turn'd  into  cinders  iov  Kitty  Maclure ! 


This  world  below  here 

Is  but  darksome  and  drear, 
So  I  set  about  finding  for  darkness  a  cure, 

And  I  got  the  sweet  knowledge 

From  Cu})id's  own  college — 
'Twas  hght  from  the  eyes  of  sweet  Kitty  jMacluro. 

If  all  the  dark  pages 

Of  all  the  dark  ages 
\Yere  bound  in  one  volume,  you  might  be  secure 

To  illumine  them  quite, 

■\Vith  the  mirth-giving  light 
That  beams  from  the  eyes  of  sweet  Kitty  Maclure  1 


As  Cupid,  one  day, 

Hide-and-seek  went  to  play. 
He  knew  where  to  hide  himself,  sly  and  secure  ; 

So,  away  tlie  rogue  dashes 

To  hide  'mid  the  lashes 
That  fringe  the  bright  eyes  of  sweet  Kitt\        3lure. 

She  thought  'twas  a  fly 

That  got  into  her  eye, 
So  she  wink'd— for  the  tickling  she  could  not  endure  ; 

But  love  would  not  fly 

At  her  winking  so  sly, 
And  still  lurks  in  the  eye  of  sweet  Kitty  Maclure ! 


rOETlCM.  WORKS  OF  SAMUL'L  LOVEli. 


18a 


FATHER  MOLLOY; 

on,    THE    CONFESSIO>f. 


pADin-  McCabe  was  dying  one  day, 

And  Father  Molioy  he  came  to  confess  him  ; 
P;iddy  pray'd  hard  he  would  make  no  dehiy 

Bat  forgive  him  his  sins  and  make  haste  for  to  bless  him. 
'•  First  tell  uie  your  sins,"  says  Father  Molioy, 
'•  For  I'm  thinking  you've  not  been  a  very  good  boy." 
"  Oh,"  says  Paddy,  "  so  late  in  the  evenin'  I  fear 
'Twould  throuble  you  such  a  long  story  to  hear, 
For  vou've  ten  long  miles  o'er  the  mountain  to  go, 
While  the  road  I'm  to  travel's  much  longer,  you  know  : 
80  give  us  your  blessiu'  and  get  in  the  saddle, 
To  tell  all  my  sins  my  poor  brain  it  v.'ould  addle  ; 
And  the  docthor  gp.ve  ordhers  to  kec]}  mo  so  quiet —    _ 
Twould  disturb  me  to  tell  all  my  sins,  if  I'd  thry  it, 
And  your  Reverence  has  towld  us,  unless  we  tell  all, 
'Tis  worse  than  no'  makin'  confession  at  all : 
So  I'll  say,  in  a  word,  I'm  no  very  good  boy, 
And,  therefore,  your  blessiu',  sweet  Father  iNIolloy." 

"  Well,  I'll  read  from  a  book,"  says  Father  Molioy, 
"  The  manifold  sins  that  humanity's  heir  to  ; 

\nd  when  you  hear  those  that  your  conscience  annoy, 
You'll  just  squeeze  my  hand,  as  acknowledging  thereto." 

Then  the  Father  began  the  dark  roll  of  iniquity. 

And  Pr:ddv,  thereat,  felt  his  conscience  grow  rickety, 


^nd  1.0  gave  such  a  s^iuc/e  tl.u  iLc  prle.t  gave  .  voar- 
'.  01.   nmvuher  !  "  says  Paday,  "  don't  read  any  nunc. 
ror,ifv.mk.(>prcadi.',byaUthatisthrun 

Your  l^evc.v.i>ce's  list  ^viU  be  soon  black  and  .;lno  ; 

Bcsnles  to  bo  tbrou))led  my  couscience  begins, 

Tlutt  vo'nr  lleverence  sliould  Lave  any  hand  lu  my  ..us  ; 

So  von  d  betther  suppose  I  comnntted  tlieni  all,  ^ 

Tov  .bother  they're  great  ones,  or  ^vhether  they  re  small. 

Or  if  they're  a  doze)),  or  if  they're  four-score, 

'Tis  vour'Koverenoe  knows  how  to  absolve  them,  asthore  . 

Ho  I'll  say,  \n  a  word,  I'm  no  very  ?.'Ood  boy.  ^^ 

And,  therefore,  your  blessm',  sweet  Father  MoUoy. 

«'  Well  "  says  Father  Molloy,  "  if  your  sins  I  forgive, 

So  you  must  forgive  all  your  enemies  truly  ; 
And  promise  me  also  that,  if  you  should  hve  ^^ 

You'll  leave  off  your  old  tricks,  and  begin  to  hve  newly. 
.<  I  forgive  ev'rybody,"  says  Pat,  with  a  groan, 
-  Except  that  big  vagabone  Micky  Haloiio  ; 
And  him  I  will  murdher  if  ever  I  can—" 
«'  Tut  nit !  "  savs  the  priest,  "  you're  a  very  bad  man  ; 
For  without  you  forgiveness,  and  also  repentance,    ^ 
You'll  ne'er  go  to  Heaven,  and  that  is  my  sentence. 
.<  Poo  1  "  savs  Paddy  McCabe,  -  that's  a  very  hard  case, 
With  vour  Pveverence  and  Heaven  I'm  content  to  make  pace  ; 
But  ;ith  Heaven  and  your  lleverence  I  wondher--(M  kon., 
You  would  think  of  comparin'  that  blackguard  Malone- 
])ut,  siiu-e  I'm  hard  press'd  and  that  I  must  forgive, 
I  fov-nve  -if  I  die— but  as  sure  as  I  hvo 
That^iglv  blackguard  I  will  surely  desthroy  !-  ^^ 
So,  no<o  for  your  blessin',  sweet  Father  Molloy  I 


POETICM   WORKS  <)F  SAMCKf.   LOVKU. 


185 


)iir — 


THE  DEEP-SEA  SHELL. 


ius  ; 
small, 
thore  : 


e, 


i  iicwlv. 


liin  ; 

C. 

\  case, 
[uako  pace  ; 
—  Orh  hone, 
[alone — 
■e, 


"  Sad  one,  sighing  along  the  shore, 

"Why  to  thine  eav  that  sea  shell  keep  ?  " 
"  Because  it  telleth  of  days  of  yore — 
Of  joys  that  I  know  ■within  the  deep. 
A  Siren,  there  betraying 
With  song  and  softest  saying, 
IVIy  soul  with  vows  of  love  beguil'd — 
Oh  how  I  loved  that  sea-nym})h  wild  ! 
But  she  was  false — ah,  false  as  fair, 
And  I,  abaudon'd  to  despair  ; 
The  shell  I  stole  from  out  the  deep, 
Some  meni'ry  of  my  joy  to  keep  ; 
And  though  the  shell 
Rings  Pleasure's  knell, 
Yet  still  'tis  dear 
Tho'  sad,  to  hear 
Tlie  souTid  of  the  deap-sea  shell." 

Thus  mortals  listen  to  Menrry's  shell, 

Stolen  of  Time  from  liis  silent  deep  ; 
And  Nature  yields  to  the  murmuring  spell, 
Tho'  the  sad  music  may  make  us  w^eep. 
For,  in  Memory's  deep  are  lying- 
Past  joys,  too  fast  in  Hying, 
And  manv  a  "  thonjrht  too  Avi-y- 


i.. 


And  bhghted  hopes  of  Corn-or  \o;irs 


18G 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVKIt. 


:|f\: 


Yet,  mingled  thus,  of  grief  and  joy, 
Oil,  who  the  luemory  would  destroy  ? — 
Of  all  the  bliss  and  pain  we've  met, 
Oh,  where's  the  heart  that  would  forget '? 

Tor  tho'  the  shell 

llings  Pleasure's  knell, 

Yet  still  'tis  dear, 

The'  sad,  to  hear 
Tho  sound  of  Memory's  shell. 


I  VALUE  THIS  CUP. 


I  VALUE  this  Clip,  for  its  brim 

Is  hallow'd  by  mem'rics  divine  !  , 

How  many  a  health  have  I  pledged  out  oi  him — 

And  mingled  a  tear  with  the  wine  ! 
To  my  children  I've  drunk  from  this  bowl, 

When  the  day  of  their  birlli  has  come  round  ; 
To  the  well-beloved  wife  of  my  soul, 

Who  witli  rapture  my  foiid  heart  has  crowii'd ! 

The  cup  that  is  hallow'd  like  this, 

"With  hopes,  and  with  blessings,  and  love, 
Bright  Hebe  ne'er  iill'd  one  so  brimming  with  bliss 

When  she  crown'd  it  with  nectar  above  ! 
Then  forward  our  hopes  let  us  cast, 

And  bound  in  fond  memory's  chain, 
Let  us  drink  to  the  joys  that  are  past. 

And  trust  that  as  bright  ones  remain  ! 


POETICAL   WOHKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVFAi. 


187 


LOVE  AND  LIQUOR. 

A   G1!K£K   ALLLtiOKY. 


On  sure,  'twould  amaze  yiz, 

How  one  Mister  Theseus 
Deserted  a  lovely  young  lady  of  owld  : 

On  a  dissolute  Island, 

All  lonely  and  silent, 
She  sobb'd  herself  sick,  as  she  sat  in  the  cowld. 

Oh,  you'd  thiidv  she  was  kilt, 

As  she  roar'd — with  the  quilt 
"Wrapp'd  round  her  in  haste  as  she  jumji'd  out  of  'oed, 

x\.nd  ran  down  to  the  coast. 

Where  she  look'd  like  a  ghost, 
Though  'twas  he  was  departed — the  vagabono  fled. 

And  she  cried  "  Well-a-day  ! 

Sure  my  heart  it  is  gray  : 
They're  deceivers,  them  sojers,  that  goes  on  half-pay." 

While  abusin'  the  villain, 

Came  riding  postilion 
A  nate  little  boy  on  the  back  of  a  baste. 

Big  enough,  faith,  to  ate  him. 

But  he  leather'd  and  bate  him. 
And  the  baste  to  nnsate  him  ne'er  sthruggled  the  las  a 

And  an  illigant  car 

He  was  dhrawing — by  gar  ! 
It  was  finer  by  far  than  a  Lord  Mayor's  state-coach  ; 

And  the  chap  that  was  in  it, 

He  sang  like  a  linnet, 


B 


188 


I'oKllCM.    WnUKS  OF  SAMVilL    l.i)\'Kli. 


"NVith  ii  \v.i\v  kiLj  ()'  whisliv  besiik'  him  to  broucli  ; 

And  lio  t!i)[)'(l  now  uiul  tlioii, 

Just  ii  injittluT  (if  tfu 
Or  twelve  luiublers  o'  punch  to  his  bowhl  sawing  men. 

They  were  '.IhvessM  in  green  livery, 

But  seem'tl  rather  shivery, 
For  'twas  only  a  thriflo  o'  leaves  that  they  wove  ; 

But  they  caper'il  away 

Like  the  sweeps  on  May-clay, 
And  shouted  and  tippled  the  tumblers  galore. 

A  print  of  tlieir  master 

Is  often,  in  Plaster- 
O'-Paris  jnit  over  the  door  of  a  tap,— 

A  line  chubby  fellow, 

Bipe,  rosy,  and  mellow, 
Like  a  payche  that  is  ready  to  dhrop  in  your  lap. 

Hurrah  !  for  brave  Bacchus, 

A  bottle  to  crack  ns — 
He's  a  friend  o'  the  people,  like  bowld  Caius  Gracchus! 


Now  Bacchus,  persaivin' 

The  lady  w'as  grievin', 
He  spoke  to  her  civil  and  tipp'd  her  a  wink  ; 

And  the  more  that  she  fretted, 

He  sootlier'd  and  petted. 
And  gave  her  a  glass  her  own  health  just  to  dhrink  ; 

Her  pulse  it  beat  quicker, 

The  thrille  of  lic^uor 
pnliven'd  her  sinking  heart's  cockles,  I  think  :  — 

So  the  MOKAL  is  plain. 

That,  if  Love  gives  you  pain, 
There's  i\othin<j  can  cure  it  I  He  laLing  to  dhn'uh! 


rOKTlVAL  WOIiKS  OF  SAMUEL  LoVKli, 


189 


FILL  HIGH  THE  CUP  IN  TIIIUMPH. 

A    I'KSTAL    I,ViaC. 


Fill  liigli  the  cup  in  tiininph,  with  luurcl  wreathe  tho  bowl, 
To  drink  the  <>lorioua  victors  of  the  fuuiod  SkiiastoI'ol  ; 
Tho  tij^dit  of  right  is  bravely  won,  tho  Tyrant's  scpiadron  Hv; 
1V\H  tow'rs  that  crown'd  th'  embattled  steej)  in  lowly  ashes  lio, 
Tlie  ships  that  bore  his  niurd'rous  llao-  a(;ross  tho  sable  deep, 
"Were  sunk  in  coward  safety— where  dishonor'd— let  them 
sleep  ; 

Above  them,  now,  th'  uufetter'd  wave-s  in  bounding  freedom 

roll, 
And  lash  the  prostrate  ruins  of  the  famed  .Sebastopol. 

And  wlien  the  sava,!L,u;  North  had  chired  d<dianco  to  the  free, 
How  glorious  was  the  high  resolve  of  'Western  chivalry  ; 
The  foemen    bold  of  days   g(nie   by  shook  hands  in  bravo 

i-enown, 
And  in  the  cause  of  Freedom  cast  their  stainless  gauntlets 

down  ; 
'Gainst  Freedom,  in  the  cause  of  right,  'twas  vain  for  slaves 

to  try, 
And  soon  from  Alma  came  the  shout  of  glorious  victory,   . 
From  Inkkrmann,  Tchernaya  too,  and  now,  to  crown  the  whole, 
The  flags  of  France  and  -....gland  float  above  Sebastopol. 

Oh,  'tis  a  lesson  timely  giv'n,  to  be  veniember'd  Ion"-, 
How  Freedom's  cause  was  blest  by  Heaven,  and  right  pre- 
vuil'd  o'er  Avrong, 


11)0 


POKTICAL  WOliKS  OF  SAMVKL   l.OVKIl. 


Tilt!  fiilt'iiiiK  luul  tho  falk'U  may  hide  their  hcrals  in  iihject 
•     shiune, 
■NVliile  honor  crowns  tho  victors  who  have  play'd  tlio  iiohlo 

Atul  won  it,  too— so  fill  tho  cup  to  toast  tho  cause  divine— 
Our  welcome  friend  Sardine*  will  give  a  tlavor  to  thti  wine, 
Full  as  our  triumph  let  us  till,  and  drink,  with  heart  and 

soul, 
That  brotherhood  of  bravery  that  won  SKnAsroroL. 


THE  HAPPY  HOUK  TO  MEET. 

DUET. 


WArriNo  evening's  closing. 

Marking  the  vesper  chime, 
Love,  his  pinions  folding, 

Watches  the  flight  of  Time. 
Counting  the  hours  by  the  bells  so  sweet, 
And  blessing  the  happy  hour  to  meet. 


When  the  3un  is  sinking 

Over  the  lady's  bower, 
And  the  longer  shadow 

Tells  of  the  short'ning  hour, 
Breezes  then  whisper  thro'  flowerets  sweet, 
"  Hasten— for  oh !  'tis  the  hour  to  meet  1 " 

•  The  King  of  ^anliniu  was  ol  the  Wcstrni  AUiauce. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


ICl 


CUriD'S  FIRST  DIP. 


CuwD  one  day  aiuid  wikl  flowers  Dluviiin-. 

Wild  flowers— the  Attest  for  him— 
In  the  bright  stream,  by  whoso  bank  he  waH  strayiiif,', 

Longing  to  bathe— but  the  boy  could  not  swim. 
He  veniared  his  foot  in  a  shallow  hard  bv. 
When  the  Nymph  of  the  stream,  with  a  sharp  mocking  cry, 
8aid,  "  Cnpid,  don't  dabble— b(;  cautious,  or  bold, 

Jump  in,  or  keep  out, 

If  you  dabble,  no  doubt 

You'll  go  home  with  a  cough, 

And  the  ladies  will  scoft— 
For  the  very  worst  thing  is  for  Love  to  take  cold." 


Cupid,  thus  taunted,  jump'd  in,  nothing  daunted, 
"  Well  done,"  said  the  Nymph  to  the  boy ; 

"  Once  o'er  head  and  ears,  boy,  away  with  your  fears 

The  wilder  the  plunge,  oh,  the  brighter  the  joy ! 

To  give  you  this  lesson,  sweet  Cupid,  is  luck, 

With  your  dear  little  wings  too— I'm  sure  you're  a  duck- 
But,  wild  duck,  don't  dabble," — 
The  Nymph  said  to  him, — 
"  Once  o'er  head  and  ears, 
Away  with  your  fears. 

For  Love  never  sinks  when  determined  to  swim  I " 


192 


POETICAL  WORKU  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE   "AVHISTLIN'  THIEF.'* 


"When  Put  cuiiio  o'er  the  hill, 

His  Colleen  I'uir  to  see, 
His  whistle  low,  but  shrill, 

The  signal  was  to  be  ; 

( Pat  xvriititles. ) 

"  Mary,"  the  mother  said, 

"  Some  one  is  wliistliu'  sure  ;  " 

Says  Mary,  "  'tis  only  the  wind 
Is  whistlin'  thro'  the  door." 

(Fat  whidles  a  bit  nf  a  popular  air.) 

"  I've  liv'd  a  long  time,  Mary, 
In  this  wide  world,  my  dear, 

But  a  door  to  whistle  like  that 
I  never  yet  did  hear." 

"  But,  mother,  you  know  the  fiddle 
Hangs  close  beside  the  chink. 

And  the  wind  upon  the  sthriugs 
Is  playin'  the  tchune  I  think." 

{The pig  grunts.) 

"  ^Tary,  I  hear  the  pig, 

Unaisy  in  his  mind." 
*■  But,  mother,  you  know,  they  say 

The  i)igs  can  see  the  wind." 


rOETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

*'  Tliat's  tlirue  enough  in  (he  day. 
But  I  think  you  may  remark, 

That  pigs,  no  more  nor  Ave, 
Can  see  anything  in  the  dark." 

( The  docj  harks. ) 

"  The  dog  is  barkin'  now, 

The  fiddle  can't  play  that  tchune," 
"  But,  mother,  the  dogs  will  bark 

Whenever  they  see  the  moon." 

"But  how  could  he  see  the  moon, 
"When,  you  know,  the  dog  is  bhnd  ? 

Blind  dogs  won't  bark  at  the  moon, 
Nor  fiddles  be  play'd  by  the  wind, 

**  I'm  not  such  a  ^     '.  as  you  think, 
I  know  very  well  'tis  l*at  : 

iSliut  your  mouth,  you  whistlin'  thief, 
And  go  along  homo  out  o'  that ! 


193 


"  And  you  go  off  to  bed, 

Don't  play  upon  me  your  jeers  ; 
For  tho'  I  have  lost  my  eyes, 

I  haven't  lost  my  ears !  " 


m' 


19i 


POETICAL  W0EK8  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEH. 


THOU  FAIll,  BUT  rAITHi^ESS  ONE. 


IVkll  may  I  rue  the  day, 

Thou  fair,  but  faithless  one, 
I  fell  beneath  thy  sway, 

Thou  fair,  but  faithless  one  ; 
You  stole  my  ardent  heart 
With  Love's  delusive  art, 
And  then  did  from  me  part. 
Thou  cruel  faithless  one  ! 

The  flow'rs  you  gave  I  keep, 
Thou  fair,  but  faithless  one  ; 

Thy  form  still  haunts  my  sleep, 
Thou  fair,  but  faithless  one  ; 

But  oh,  the  dream  of  night— 

That  shadow  of  delight. 

At  morning  takes  to  flight — 
Like  thee— thou  faithless  one  ! 


Oh  !  that  wo  ne'er  had  jnet. 

Thou  fair,  but  faithless  one  ; 
Or  that  I  could  forget 

Thy  charms,  thou  faithless  one  I 
But  oh  !  while  life  shall  last, 
Thy  spells  around  me  cast 
Still  bind  me  to  the  past — 
Thou  fair,  but  faithless  one  ? 


POETICAL  ]V0JIKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


195 


THE  SIREN  BY   THE  SEA. 


I  UAD  a  ciroam  of  gentle  straying, 

By  the  margin  of  tlie  sea. 
There,  my  wand'riug  steps  delaying, 
There  a  Siren  sang  to  me  ; 
The  waveless  deen 
Was  lull'd  to  sleep. 
As  the  mellow  music  stole  alonfj, 
Lest  the  motion 
•    Of  the  ocean 
Should  disturb  the  mermaid's  soncr :— 
Oh,  that  song  was  sweet  to  me, 
Nothing  mortal  e'er  can  be, 
LUie  the  ringing 
Of  the  singing 
Of  that  Siren  bv  the  sea  I 


When  I  woke,  how  many  a  pleasure, 

Of  the  time  long  pass'd  away, 
Seem'd  awaking  to  the  measure 
Of  the  mermaid's  magic  lay  I 
Thus  mem'ry's  song 
Oft  steals  along 
O'er  the  dark  and  silent  tide  of  tinu)  1 
And  voices  lo\v, 
In  gentle  flow, 
Repeat  the  songs  of  youth'i^  sweet  prime. 


1;>G  I'OETICAL  WOUKS  UF  SAMUEL  LOVKR. 

Oh  !  sweet  inoiu'ry  !  thus  to  nio 
Let  tliy  magic  music  be, 

Ever  ringino- 

Like  the  flinging 
Of  the  Siren  by  the  sea  I 


CAN  YOU  EVER  POEGET? 


Ou,  don't  YOU  remember,  from  morniug  till  evening, 

How  oft  we  have  roved  thro'  the  wild  mountain  glen, 
And  sigh'd,  as  we  said,  wlien  tlie  time  came  for  leaving, 

The  day  Avas  too  short— tho'  twas  midsummer  then  ? 
If  it  rain'd  we  complain'd  not— we  thought  not  of  weather, 

Tho'  tho  path  was  with  v/ecds  and  with  briars  o'ergrown 
'Twas  so  sweet  and  so  short  when  we  walli'd  it  together— 

'Twas  so  long—ah,  so  long,  when  returning  alone. 

Oh,  don't  you  remember,  how  thus  'twas  we  met?— 
Or  rather  I'll  say— can  you  ever  forgot  ? 

And,  don't  you  remember,  at  each  festive  season 

That  Christmas,  or  Easter,  so  merrily  brino-. 
To  sit  next  each  other  we  always  found  reason, 

When  playing  at  forfeits,  all  joiu'd  the  gay  ring  ? 
And,  when  you  drew  the  prizes,  you  managed  that  my  one 

Should  bo  quite  the  best  from  tlie  gay  Christmas  tree  ; 
And  if  blindman's-buff  was  the  game— oh,  you  sV  one— 

You  know,  very  well,  that  you  always  caught  me. 

Oh,  don't  you  remember  how  thus  'twas  we  met  '?— 
Or  rather  I'll  say— can  you  ever  forget  I 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEIl. 


197 


THE    FISHERMAN'S    DAUGHTEE. 


"  Why  art  thou  wand'ring  aiouo  by  the  shore  ? 

The  wind  wliistles  loud  and  the  ^vhito  breakers  roar." 

"  Oh !  I  am  wand'riug  alone  by  the  sea, 

To  watch  if  my  father's  returnhig  to  me  ; 

Fur  the  wind  it  blew  hard  in  the  depth  of  the  night, 

And  I'm  watching  here  since  the  dawning  of  light, 

Looking  thro'  tears  o'er  the  wild  raging  sea. 

To  watch  if  my  father's  returning  to  me. 

"  Last  night  when  my  father  put  forth  on  the  deep, 
To  our  cottage  returning,  I  lay  down  to  sleep, 
But  while  the  calm  of  sweet  sleep  came  to  me, 
The  voice  of  the  tempest  was  waking  the  sea ! 
Methought,  in  a  dream,  'twas  my  father  that  spoke- 
But,  oh  ! — to  the  voice  of  the  tempest  I  woke, 
While  the  father  I  dreamt  of  was  far  on  the  sea, 
Ah— why,  in  my  dream,  cried  my  father  to  me.  ■ 


"  Vaiiily  I  look  thro'  the  fast-driving  gale — 

Hopeless,  I  see  what  hope  fancier  a  sail, 

I'lit  'lis  only  the  wing  of  the  sea  gull  flits  by, 

And  uiy  heart  it  sinks  low  at  the  bird's  wailing  cry : 

For  the  storm  must  blow  hard  when  the  gull  conies  on  shore- 

Oh  !  that  the  fisherman's  gift  were  no  more 

Than  the  gift  of  the  wild  bird  to  soar  o'er  the  sea — 

Good  angels  !  thy  wings  bear  my  fatlicr  to  mo !  " 


198 


POETICAL  WOliKH  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


MARY  OF  TIPPERARY. 


From  sweet  Tipper.iiy, 
See  light-hearted  Maiy, 
Her  stei),  hke  a  fairy,  scarce  ruffles  the  dew, 
As  she  joyously  springs 
And  as  joyously  sings, 
Disdaining  such  things  as  a  stocking  or  shoe  I 
For  she  goes  bare-footed, 
Like  Venus  or  Cupid, 
And  who'd  be  so  stupid  to  put  her  in  sill:, 
When  her  sweet  foot  and  ankle, 
The  dew-drops  bespangle, 
As  she  trips  o'er  the  lawn, 
At  the  blush  of  the  dawn. 
As  she  trips  o'er  the  lawn  with  her  full  pail  of  milk. 

For  the  dance  when  arrayed, 

See  this  bright  mountain  maid. 
If  her  hair  she  would  braid  with  young  beauty's  fond  lure, 

O'er  some  clear  fountain  stooping. 

Her  dark  tresses  looping-  : 

Dianna  herself  ne'er  had  mirror  more  pure  ! 

How  lovely  that  toilet  :— 

Woultl  Fashion  dare  soil  it 
^yith  paint  or  with  patches— when  Niitnre  bestows 

A  beauty  more  sim])Io, 

In  mirth's  artless  dimple, 


POKTWAL    WOliKH  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEIL 

Heaven's  light  in  her  eye— 
(The  soft  bhie  of  the  sky) 
Heaven's  light  in  her  eye  and  a  blush  like  the  rose. 


190 


GREEN  AND  GIUY  CAN  NEVER  AGREE. 


Youxa  Rosette  was  litho  and  gay, 
Old  Sir,Gregory  bent  and  gray  ; 
She  the  picture  was  of  May, 

He  made  you  think  of  a  Avinter'"  day 

But  still  he  courted  fair  Rosette, 
She,  all  the  time,  could  never  forget 
A  saying  old  she  heard  when  young, 
And  thus  the  proverb  was  slowly  sung, 

Green  and  Gray  can  never  agree,' 
So,  old  man,  court  not  me." 

Young  Rosette,  in  mirthful  vein, 
Laugli'd  at  Sir  Gregory's  tender  pain  : 
She,  he  said,  "  should  roll  in  wealth  "— 
And  vow'd  ho  was  "  in  very  good  health  :  " 
She  should  ride  in  a  coach  and  four, 
She  should  have  servants  by  the  score, 
Green  and  gold  should  her  hveries  be- 
When  thus  Eighteen  said  to  Sixty-three— 
"  Green  and  gold  are  fair  to  see. 
But  '  Green  and  Gray  can  never  agree', 
So,  old  man,  court  not  me." 


; 


I 


200 


POllTWAL    WORKS   OF  SAMUKL   J.OVIu 


•Ji. 


THE  TWO  CASTLES, 


1|- 


There  in  a  castle  tail, 

Roses  entwine  ; 
There,  in  the  stately  hall, 

Flows  tlio  bright  wine  ; 
There  mirth  and  magic  lay 
Pass  th.e  bright  hours  away,  4 
Hope,  lovely  Hope,  they  say 

These  halls  are  thine  ! 

There  iu  a  castle  keep, 

Lonely  and  gray. 
Looking  across  tiie  deep — 

Far,  far  away  ! 
There,  in  her  lofty  tow'r, 
There  at  the  midnight  hoixr, 
"iNEeni'iy,  with  darksome  pow'r, 
Watches,  they  say. 

Would  you  tliese  castles  find? 

Ask  me  the  way  ? 
AVhere  is  the  rosy-twined 

Where  is  the  gray  ? 
Hope's—built  by  fairy  hands, 
Sank  in  the  shifring  sands  • 
On  tlio  rock,  areinVv's  stands^ 


iislin;;'  for 


ay-.' 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LO  VElt. 


aoi 


I'LL    NEVER    FORGET    TPIAT,    MA'AM! 


Tur.y  say  tho  men  ;irc  faitlilo.ss  all, 

And  never  will  prove  tliruo,  dear, 
But  of  all  in  all,  both  great  and  small, 

I'll  never  forj-^et  you,  dear. 
For  'tis  you  that  took  tho  Iwiijhih  o'  care 

To  keep  my  memory  thruo,  dear  ; 
My  memory'H  not  very  good — but  I'll  never  forget  you,  dear 

Oh,  Kitty,  dear,  yoii  need  not  fear 
That  I  will  e'er  forget  you, 

I  remember  all  your  tiudherness 
From  the  hour  that  first  I  mot  you. 

'Twas  at  the  fair  your  eoaxin'  air 

First  made  me  be  your  suithor, 
^^'here  I  spent  my  wealth  to  dhrink  your  health, 

And  toss'd  the  costly  pewther  ; 
A  lock  o'  vour  hair  vou  ijromised  me — 

With  joy  my  heart  was  big,  ma'am  ! 
But  in  tho  bottom  o'  the  quart 

I  found  the  fiddler's  wig,  ma'am  ! 
Oh,  indeed.  Miss  Kit,  tho  dickins  a  bit 

You'll  wheedle  me  now  with  your  chat,  ma'am  : 
M}'  memory's  not  ver^'  good — 

But  I'll  never  forget  that,  ma'am. 

"When  you  bid  mo  step  up  to  the  house, 

To  spake  to  your  mother  and  father, 
And  said,  of  all  the  boys  you  knew 

'Twas  myself  that  you  would  rather  ; 


202 


J'OKTWAL    WOUKS  OF  ,SAMUA 


I.  J.OVKli, 


•t  h 


"  Won't  y..u  t:ike  a  Kjite,"  hixxh  yon,  "  my  iloar  V" 

A't  ith  a  most  .sc!<luoiii'  air,  ina'ani : 
y^nt  „h  !  wliat  a  thuiulcvin'  lump  „f  -i  pi,i 

I'ou  stuck  iu  tlio  wito  of  the  chair,  ma'am! 
Iiidrcd,  :\Ii.s,s  Kit,  tho  (liokins  a  hit 

You'll  wl.eo.llc  me  nou'  with  your  chat,  ma'am, 
My  memory 'h  not  very  o-ood 

But  I'll  never  forget  that,  ma'am. 

AVhou  I  said  'twas  you  couUl  raise  tlio  llamo, 

My  love,  you  did  not  mock  it, 
For  didn't  you  put  a  coal  o'  lire 

Into  my  new  coat  pocket  V 
An.l  when  I  bla/ed,  'twas  you  did  .shout 

AVitli  laugliter,  to  be  sure,  ma'am, 
"Oh,"  says  you,  "my  dear,  I'll  put  ynu  out," 

But,  faix,  'twas  aid  </  (he  door,  ma'am. 
Indeed,  Miss  Kit,  the  dickins  a  bit 

You'll  wheedle  mo  now  with  your  chat,  ma'am. 
My  memory's  not  very  -rood— 

But  I'll  never  forget  tliat,  ma'am. 

Then  didn't  I  see  black  Darby  Keogh 

To  the  little  back  window  pass,  ma'am  ? 
His  ugly  face  he  there  did  squeeze 

Till  he  flattened  his  nose  on  the  glass,  ma'am. 
Tlien  the  sash  was  riz— I  heer'd  it  squeel— 

There  was  nothing  then  between  you  : 
'Faith,  ILnow  how  hcjlallen'd  hU  none  of  lev  that  ! 

Tho'  you  thought  there  was  nobody  seen  you 
Oh,  iu.leed,  Miss  Kit,  the  dickins  a  bit 

You'll  wheedle  mo  now  with  your  chat,  ma'am  : 


M 


y   memory's   not  very  good,— but   I 
ma'am  I 


ii  never  forget  that^ 


rpHiU'f 


I'OKTIVAL    WUllKS  Of  >SAMUt':L   LOVER. 


203 


OCULAR   DEMONSTRATION. 


In  tho  days  of  creation,  when  Jovo  was  allottinfif 

The  power  each  part  should  supply 
To  tho  tongue  he  gave  words,  to  assist  us  in  plottiupf, 

And  vigihinco  gave  to  tlio  eye. 
]Jut  Juno,  tho  mandates  of  Jovo  ne'er  oljeying, 

Tauglit  woman  his  hiws  to  defy, 
8aid,  tlio  tongue  should  keep  guard  over  what  they  wer« 
saying, 

And  the  speaking  bo  done  by  tho  eije. 

But  the  great  law  of  Nature  so  strongly  endued 

The  tongue  of  the  woman,  dear  soul. 
That  it  would  not  be  quiet,  do  all  that  she  could. 

And  ran  quite  beyond  her  control ; 
While  her  eye,  flashing  brightly,  determined  to  keep 

Its  gift  from  the  queen  of  the  sky, 
'Till  between  them,  with  many  an  argument  deep, 

The  quarrel  soon  ran  very  high. 


At  last,  'twas  agreed  an  appeal  to  the  sky 

Should  be  made  in  a  matter  so  nice  ; 
And  this  compromise  sly  'twixt  the  tongue  and  the  eye 

Was  agreed  on,  by  Jove's  own  advice  ; 
"  My  daughters,  thus  nicely  the  balance  I've  hung 

"  Twixt  the  rivals,"  tho  Thunderer  cries, 
"Let  woman  to  woman  converse  with  hcv  tongue, 

But  speak  to  a  man  wuth  her  sy/'s." 


I 


.'()4 


ntKIICM.    UV//.A.S   OF  i>.\ML]:i.    LuVJai 


THK    f 


(.'  I 


3II:l1M)11IVE1{, 


I  WKNT  I,         '^wi'v.  to  tbo  wara  fur  i\  IVisk, 

Athu-liM  to  tlie  l)iy  baj,'or,igo  tmin,  sure, 
Bdt,  what  Willi  t)i(i  toil    11(1  starvation  uiul  ri.sk, 

i''aitlj,  I'll  not  go  ciunpuif,nun'  uj-ain,  sure  ; 
Upliill,  and  downdaio  I  was  dlirivin'  of  nuiles 

From  the  lop  (,f  tiio  niornin'  till  night,  sir  ; 
Oh  !  sni-li  tliroublc  to  (..ke,  surely  Lings  n.n«t  b6  fooLs, 

"When  the  journey  Init  ends  in  a  ti^ht,  sir. 

For  aatin'  and  dhrinlnn'  and  sluepin'  onon..]i 

Tin  myself  that  I  always  iomnl  partial  f 
rmt  these  thino-.s  were  scarce,  while,  the  fi-htin' was  tough, 

From  the  Pi-ivate  np  to  the  Field  Marshal. 
'Twas  only  the  Docthors  I  found  did  coj.trivo 

In  the  best  eondiliou  to  he,  sir  ; 
High  and  low,  right  and  left,  'twas  the  word  "be  alive," 

The  minit  wo  saw  an  M.D.,  sii.-. 

M.D.  was  the  signal  for  cleariu'  the  road 

When  the  baggage  got  stuck  in  some  by-way  i 
M.D.  had  the  best  of  good  qnarthers  ailow'd, 

And  carried  ail  ihiDgs  in  his  high  way  ; 
While  others  were  starvin',  U.T>.  had  his  Lk], 

While  otliers  were  thirsty,  ho  dhrank  full. 
''  Oh,"  says  J.  "  sure  if  Providence  only  deer.;.:.] 

To  make  me  an  :\[.D.,  I'd  b^  thankful !" 


•OKTICAI.    Uo/.AS   OF  .sAMlhJ.    I.OVKU 


205 


(Till)  fillips  inll  as  eve-  tli«'v\l  lu)vvl(l,  fnitb  ; 


I  Hindu  on  mv  llivun 


ittl 


u'lH,  a  m !•••!•- 


And  '-tlinitt'd  iiboard  then  ([uit*-  bowld,  i'uitU 


V'.  IIS  A 


1.1). 


Tli<!  I'.'tiJiers  I  put  on  tl 

Tlio  Uiinit  tlio  skii.;  -  >•  eHpictl  il 
"  Av  course,  the  ht'.st  cuuni  for  you,  su',"  h;ijs  ho  : 

I  nodded,  and  ii(>v(!r  dcni<d  '' 

■\Vc  sail'd  m  tlu;  ni;fht,  and  "twas  jdi  right  and  tight 

AVliilo  darkness  and  silence  surrounded  ; 
But  in  daylight,  with  spaldn',  while  breakfast  was  makiu' 

I  fear'd  that  I  might  be  confounded. 
Home  olHcers  look'd  at  me,  sour  as  a  lime, 

"With  suspicion,  or  somethin'  akin  {o  it. 
But  /never  open'd  my  n.outh  all  the  tinu', 

Uidess  'twas  to  jmt  something  into  it. 

"NVith  the  best  of  good  living  and  jolly  good  berth 

The  diivs  ijass'd  iiwiiv  to  mv  likiu'  : 
I  ate,  dhrank,  and  smoked,  like  a  lord  of  the  earth, 

Throughout  ev'ry  bell  that  was  stbrikin', 
"With  a  book  in  my  hand  I  would  nod  when  they  spoke, 

As  if  study,  witli  mv.,  was  the  m.'un  thrick. 
So,  at  last,  through  the  ship  it  was  pass'd,  as  a  joke, 

That  the  M.D  was  rather  ecoenthrick. 

They  brought  me  a  fellow,  one  day,  that  was  ill, 

AYitli  swell'd  face,  and  a  scarlet  i)roboscis. 
They  ask  d  me  if  sucli  inllammati'n  (Muld  kill, 

And  said  something  about  dig-a-nu!<iH  ;* 
"  Oh,  a  dig  in  the  nose,  faith,"  says  I,  ''is  a  game 

That  i\u-  beauty  is  held  I'atlier  risky, 
But  brown-paper  and  vinegar  softens  the  liame, 

Or  a  ])oultioe  of  pratees  and  whisky."' 

■  I'atV  inipprl'' ct  ro;ii(>:i:')i';r)cc  ni'  ■•  ,i:ii.;i,n:;is.'' 


200 


J'OKTICAL   WOUKU  UF  tiAMUKL  JA)VKli, 


■"SFf 


Bi!t,  as  bad  luck  wonkl  have  it,  .sliip-fayver  broke  out, 

As  they  caira  upon  jne  for  to  euro  it  : 
"In  fuyver,"  say.s  I,  "  there  is  always  great  doubt, 

And  the  life  of  man— who  cau  insure  it  ? 
I'll  give  up  to  none  in  the  dhrivin'  of  mules. 

And  they're  obstinate  bastes,  to  be  sure,  sirs, 
But  I  can't  dhrive  a  fayver,— so  don't  be  such  fools 

As  be  axin'  o'  vie  for  a  cure,  sirs !  " 

"  Why,  a'nt  you  a  docthor  ?  "  they  all  o'  them  cried. 

"  The  dickens  a  docthor  am  I,  dear." 

"  Then  why,  on  your  luggage,  M.D.  have  we  spied  ?  "— 

"  Because  they're  my  right  to  apply,  dear."— 
"  M.D.  manes  a  docthor  !  "  they  join'd  in  one  cry, 

"  Or  titles  are  not  worth  a  stiver ! " 

"  If  M.D.  betokens  a  Doctor,"  says  T, 

"  Thej'  stand  quite  as  well  for  ]\Iule  Dhriver  !  '* 


A    SINGLE    WREATH    ENTWINE. 

LINES  ON  THE  ALLIANCE  OV  ENGLAND  AND  FRANCE. 


France  and  England,  great  in  story. 
Fighting  once  for  separate  glory, 
Now  ther  valiant  hosts  combine, 
In  sacred  band,  round  Freedom's  shrine. 
And  when,  in  mingled  might, 
They  triumph  in  the  fight. 
Separate  chaplets  need  not  be 
Hence,  to  crown  the  victory  : — 
A  single  wreath  entwine. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


207 


THE  CALL  IN  VAIN. 


Call  back  the  dew 

That  on  the  rose  at  morn  was  lying  : 
When  the  day  is  dying, 
Bid  the  sunbeam  stay  : 
Call  back  the  wave 

What  time  the  ebbing  tide's  receding — 
Oh,  all  unheeding 

Of  thy  voice  are  thoy. 
As  vain  the  call 

Distraction  makes  on  love  departed, 
When  the  broken-hearted 
Bitter  tears  let  fall  : 
Dew  and  sunshine,  wave  and  fiow'r 
Eenew'd,  return  at  destin'd  hour, 
But  never  yet  was  known  the  ]3ow'r 
Could  v;i.iii«h'd  love  recal. 


Call  back  the  brave 

Beneath  the  distant  billow  lying  ; 
Those  who  love  them,  sighing, 
Bid  them  cease  to  tjigh. 
Call  back  the  bird 

That,  seeking  waruKn-  (ih'jnps  for  pleasure 
(Spent  (mr  summer  treasure), 
Spreads  his  wing  to  fly. 


f 


208  I'OETICAL    WUJ^KS   OF  SAMUEL    LoVKK. 

Call  back  the  drcaiu 

Tiiat,  ia  the  nii.>;lif,  our  fancy  chaining, 
"With  our  slumber  waning, 
Melts  at  dawn  away  : — - 
Ah  !  no  call  like  this  succeeding- 
('ease  with  dying  love  thy  pleading, 
Know,  too  late,  with  bosom  bleeding, 
Love's  more  lost  than  they  ! 


A  L  L  U  S  II . 

'THE    ELOQUENT    liLOOI).' 


In  a  blush  doth  a  tell-tale  ajipear 

That  speaks  to  the  eye,  quite  as  plain 
As  language  itself  can  convey  to  the  ear, 

Some  tender  confession  of  pleasure  or  pain  ; 
What  thoughts  we  should  never  impart 

What  secrets  we  never  should  speak, 
If  the  fountain  of  truth  in  the  heart 

Did  not  rise  hi  a  blush  to  the  cheek. 

As  the  blossom  of  spring  on  the  bough 

Is  promise  of  fruit  yet  unseen. 
So  the  color  that  mantles  thy  beauty  just  now 

May  be  but  prophetic  of  hopes  but  yet  green. 
How  vain  is  each  delicuie  art 

Of  concealment,  when  nature  would  speak, 
And  the  fountain  of  truth  in  the  heart 

Will  arise  in  a  blush  to  the  cheek  ! 


POETICAL  WOllKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


209 


I  AM  A  SIMPLE  GONDOLIER. 


I  AM  a  simple  Gondolier,  Sigiiora, 

I  am  a  simi)le  Gondolier  ; 
But  would  you  fly  fi-om  danger,  fair  Signora, 

I'll  be  as  bold  as  Cavalier, 
Where  is  truth  e'er  found  the  surest  ? — 

'Tis  in  a  simple  heart  hke  mine. 
Where  is  courage  found  the  purest. 

But  for  a  beauty  like  to  thine  ? 
I  am  a  simple  Gondolier,  Signora, 

I  am  a  simple  Gondolier  ; 
But  would  you  fly  from  danger,  fair  Signora, 

111  be  as  bold  as  Cavalier  ! 


To  favor  flight,  the  silver  light  obscuring, 
Tho  storm-cloud  veils  the  midnight  moon 

Haste,  lady  haste,  the  dusky  hour  securing, 
Thy  safety  seek  in  yon  lagune. 

There,  thy  exiled  lord  is  waiting 
With  speedy  bark  and  flowing  sail, 

Waste  not  the  hour  with  fear  d<;!)atii!'- — 

O 

The  wave  invites,  and  fair  tho  gale. 
Fear  to  thy  heart  be  stranger,  fair  Signora, 

Trust  to  thy  faithful  Gou<lolior, 
Who,  in  the  hour  of  danger,  fai:-;  Signora, 

Yv'ill  bo  as  bold  as  Cavalier ! 


fi»ii  I 


210 


POETICAL  WOliKH  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE  FLOWER  OF  NIGHT. 


The  flowers  of  the  SinRadi,  or  Night-tree  of  Sumatra,  bloom  only  aft.r  sun 
set,  and  througliout  the  night,  and  wither  at  morning. 

TuERE  is  an  Indian  tree,  they  say, 

Whose  timid  flow'r  avoids  the  light, 
Conceahng  thus  from  tell-tale  day 

The  beauties  it  unfolds  at  night 
So  many  a  thought  may  hidden  lie, 

So  sighs  unbreath'd  by  day  may  be, 
Which,  freely,  'neath  the  starry  sky 
In  secret  faith  I  give  to  thee  :— 
The  love  that  strays 
Thro'  pleasure's  ways 
Is  like  the  flow'rs  that  love  the  light ; 
But  love  that's  deeji, 
And  faith  will  keep. 
Is  hke  the  ilow'r  that  blooms  at  niglit. 

Then  do  not  hlanio  my  careless  mien 

Amid  tliis  world  of  maskers  gay  : 
I  would  not  let  my  heart  bo  seen— 

I  wear  a  mask  as  well  as  they. 
Ah,  who  would  wish  tlie  gay  should  smile 

At  passion  too  refined  for  them  ?— 
And  therefore  I,  with  blameless  guile, 

Conceal  within  my  heart  the  gem  :— 
Tlie  love  that  strays 
Thro'  pleasure's  ways 


POETICAL  WORKti  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


211 


Is  like  the  ilow'rs  that  love  the  light ; 
But  love  tlifiL's  deep, 
And  fiiith  will  keep, 

Is  like  the  flow'r  that  blooms  at  night. 


ouiy  after  sun 


THERE'S  A  CHARM  IN  THE  PAST. 


TnEKE'r^  a  charm  in  the  past  which  the  present  ne'er  knows, 
For  the  present  too  plainly  each  fault  can  disclose, 
While  the  past  thro'  the  haze  of  affection  is  seen, 
And  mem'ry  beholds  but  the  joys  that  hace  been  ; 
That  twilight  of  mem'ry  ^vill  linger  so  long- 
Like  the  soul-touching  strain  of  some  favorite  song, 
Or  like  soft  clouds  of  evening,  that,  lingering,  invite 

The  glov/  of  the  sunset  ere  day  fades  to  night 

Oh,  as  long  as  a  pulse  of  the  fond  heart  may  last. 
There's  a  charm  in  the  past. 

There's  a  charm  in  the  past  to  the  future  unknown. 
For  the  past  can  reveal  but  the  joys  oice  our  own, 
AVJjile  the  joys  of  the  future  in  fancy  Ave  see. 
Are  l)ut  dreams  of  the  fond  heart— that  never  may  he: 
Then  give  me  the  flow'rs  I  can  pluck  from  the  past, 
To  wreathe  round  life's  cup  while  the  frail  bowl  may  last. 
Tho'  the  flowers  be  all  wither'd,  enough  they  impart 
Of  the  incense  that  made  them  once  dc:ir  to  the  heart— 
Oh  yes !— for  the  faithful  and  fond,  to  the  last. 
There's  a  charm  in  the  past. 


212 


rOETlVAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


TADDY  O'EAFTIIER. 


''f 
:  -1 


1  ■.; 


Paddy,  in  want  of  a  dinner  one  day, 
Credit  all  gone,  and  no  money  to  paj'. 
Stole  from  a  priest  a  fat  pullet,  they  say, 

And  went  to  confession  just  aftlier  ; 
"Your  riv'rince,"  says  Paddy,  "I  stole  this  fat  lien." 
"  What,  Tfhat !  "  says  the  priest,  "  at  your  owld  thricks  again  i 
Faith,  you'd  rather  be  staaliu'  than  savin'  amen, 

Paddy  O'Rafther!" 


"Sure  you  wouldn't  be  angry,"  says  Pat,  "if  you  knew 
That  the  best  of  intiutions  I  had  in  my  view, 
For  I  stole  it  to  make  it  a  present  to  you. 

And  you  can  absolve  me  afther." 
"  Do  you  think,"  says  the  priest,  "  I'd  partak-^  of  your  theft 
Of  your  seven  small  senses  you  must  be  bereft — ■ 
You're  the  biggeyt  blackguard  that  I  know,  right  or  left, 

Paddy  O'Rafther!" 

"  Then  what  shall  I  do  with  the  pullet,"  says  Pat, 

"  If  your  riv'rince  won't  take  it? — By  this  and  by  that 

I  don't  know  no  more  than  a  dog  or  a  cat 

What  vour  riv'rince  would  have  me  be  afther." 
"  Why  then,"  says  his  rev'rence,  "  you  sin-bhnded  owl, 
Give  back  to  the  man  that  you  stole  from,  his  fowl, 
For  if  you  do  not,  'twill  be  worse  for  your  sowl, 

PaddvO'ItafMier." 


POl/nCAL    WOIlKti  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


213 


icks  again  i 
aftlier ! " 
knew 


your  theffc 

or  left, 
lafther !  " 


that 


1  owl, 
'1, 


Says  raddy,  "  I  ask'd  him  to  talco  it— 'tis  thruc 
As  tluH  miiiit  I'm  talkiu',  your  riv'hiujc,  to  von  ; 
]3ut  he  wouldn't  resaivo  it— so  v/hat  can  1  do  ?  " 

Says  Paddy,  iiigh  chokin'  with  laughthor. 
"  By  my  throth,"  saya  the  priest,  "  but  the  case  is  absthruse  • 
If  ho  Avon't  take  his  hen,  why  the  man  is  a  goose— 
'Tjs  jiot  the  first  time  my  advice  was  lio  u.so, 

Paddy  O'llafthor. 

"  But,  for  sake  of  your  bowI,  I  would  sthrongly  advise 
To  some  one  in  want  you  would  give  your  supplies, 
Some  widow,  or  orphan,  with  tears  in  their  eyes  ; 

And  then  you  may  come  to  me  afther." 
So  Paddy  wont  off  to  the  brisk  Widow  Hoy, 
And  the  pullet,  between  thejn,  was  eaten  with  joy, 
And,  says  she, ."  'pon  my  word  you're  the  cleverJst  boy, 

Paddy  O'Rafther!" 

Then  Paddy  wojit  back  to  the  priest  the  nc;xt  day, 
.*-nd  told  him  the  fowl  ho  had  given  away 
To  a  poor  lonely  widow,  in  want  and  dismay. 

The  loss  of  her  spouse  wcepiag  aftJier, 
"Well,  now,"  says  the  priest,  "  I'll  absolve  you,  my  lad, 
For  repentantly  making  the  best  of  the  bad. 
In  feeding  the  hungry  and  cheering  the  sad, 

Paddy  O'Rafther!" 


214 


POETICAL  WOliKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE   BEIDGE    OF   SIGHS 


Tlio  m^'r^tery  attemliint  upon  tlio  Councils^  of  Venice  increanLj  i!ie  tm'or  of 
tlu'ir  rule.  A  covered  bridge  between  the  Ducal  imlacc  and  tlie  State  prinon 
rerved  as  a  private  passaj^e,  Ijy  wliich  suspected  or  condemned  persons  were 
transferred  at  onco  from  exumination  to  tiio  duugoou— lience  it  was  called 
"  The  I3ridge  of  Sighs" 


Above  the  sparkling  water  , 

Where  Venice  crowns  the  tide, 
Behold  the  home  of  sorrow 

So  near  the  homo  of  pride  ; 
A  palace  and  a  prison 

Beside  each  other  rise, 
And,  dark  between,  a  link  is  seen— 

It  is  "  The  Bridge  oi"  Sighs." 

Eow,  gondolier,  row  fast,  row  fast, 
Until  that  fatal  bridge  be  pas*-. 


But  not  alone  in  Venice 
Are  joy  and  grief  so  near  ; 

To  day  the  smile  may  waken, 
To  morrow  wake  the  tear  ; 

*Tis  nest  the  "  House  of  mourning" 
That  Pleasure's  palace  lies, 

'Twixt  Joy  and  grief  the  passage  brief- 
Just  like  "  The  Bridge  of  Sighs." 

Row,  gondoher,  row  fast,  row  fast, 
Until  that  fatal  bridge  be  past. 


POETICAL  WOIiKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

"Who  seeks  for  joy  unclouded, 

Must  never  seek  it  here  ; 
But  in  a  purer  region 

And  in  a  brighter  sphere  ; 
To  lead  the  way  before  us, 

Bright  hope  unfailing  Hies  :~ 
This  earth  of  ours,  to  Eden's  bowers 

Is  but  a  "Bridge  of  Sighs." 

riy,  lly  sweet  hope,  %  fast,  Hy  fust. 
Until  that  bridge  of  sighs  be  past. 


216 


LOVE  KNOWS  NO  RETURNINa. 


Let  us  talk  of  grief  no  more 

Till  the  bat  is  Hying  ; 
Fitter  niem'ry's  sadd'ning  lore 

When  the  day  is  dying  ; 
When  the  joyous  sun  hath  lied, 
And  weeping  dews  around  arc  shed  :— 
Sad  things  are  most  fitly  said 

When  the  night  wind's  sighing. 
Sighing  round  some  lonely  tow'r 

Where,  within,  is  mourning ; 
And  on  the  hearth,  at  midnight  hour. 

Low  the  brands  are  burning. 
There  the  embers,  fading  fast, 
(ReHcs  of  a  glowin.o-  pasf  ^ 
Tell  of  fires  too  fierce  to  last : 
Love  knows  no  returning-. 


k 


21G 


VOKTWAL  WORKS  OF  tiAMlJKL  LOVER, 


'TWAS  ONE,  TWAS  TWO,  'TWAH  TIIUEK. 


'TwAs  one,  'twjiH  two,  'twas  throo 

That  came  to  mo  ; 
They  wero  not  shivos,  but  i'rca — • 

Three  {^jallants  froo. 
Vv'ith  eager  hand 
For  Fatherlaud 

They  waved  their  ;s\ford.s  on  high 
Tliey  liird  the  cui) 
With  red  wine  up, 

And  drank  to  Liberty  I 
No  chains  for  them, 
►Such  merry  men, 

So  joyous  was  tlieir  j^lee. 
When  to  my  court 
They  did  resort, 

The  one,  the  two,  the  three. 

But  ere  a  week  flew  by,  ^ 

With  downcast  eyo 
One  galhuit  passed  mo  by, 

His  hat  awry. 
Another  day, 
The  selfsame  wav. 

The  second  passed  mo,  too  ; 
The  third,  by  chance. 
An  upward  glance 

Upon  me  ^lily  threw  ; 


Eli. 


I'UETWAL  WOliKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEL 


TIlllEK. 


Auutlicv  week, 


And 


-•Uoek 


ov  ry  cUoel 

Aiuoug  thorn  pallid  grow, 
And  the  whole  throo 
Entreated  me 

To  let  them  kueel  and  woo  I 
I  could  not  have  the  three, 

To  wait  ou  mo, 
»So  sent  two  slaves  away, 

Aud  one  made  free. 


WHEN  OVER  THE  WATERS  THE  ]\IOOXBEAMS 

ARE  BRIGHT. 


WuKN  over  the  waters  the  muunbeans  are  bright, 
And  the  zephyrs  all  spori.  on  a  pathway  of  light, 
How  often  I  wish  I  eould  tread  the  path  too, 
O'er  the  moon-lighted  waters,  my  own  love,  to  you, 
Aud,  bounding  o'er  billows,  leave  oeeau  behind, 
Ou  that  shore,  far  away,  my  heart's  treasure  to  iiud ! 

But  say,  would  I  wait  for  the  calm  summer  uight. 
And  the  moon  on  tUfi  wave,  with  her  pathway°of  light? 
No,  no  ;— I  would  fly  with  the  first  storm  that  blew, 
For  'twould  bear  me  the  faster,  my  own  love,  to  you. 
And  my  heart  would  be  compass  sufiicieufc  for  me— ' 
For  ne'er  could  it  turn  to  another  than  thee ! 


ii 


218 


rOETICAL  TV'OA'A-.S  OF  ISAMVEL  LOVKTl. 


fclOLDIKK,  COME  OVEK  THE  SEA. 


"  SoLDiKi:,  soldier,  como 

Over  tho  sea,  over  the  setv— 
hJolilior,  K(jl(licr,  coino 
Over  tho  sea  to  mo  ! 
liut  seas  avo  dark, 

And  rocks  are  there, 
And  teiiii^osts  blow — 
Beware,  beware  ! " 
Tho  soldier  smiled  to  hear 
The  gentle  maiden's  fear  ; 
"No  danger  lives,"  siiid  ho, 
•'I  would  not  dare  for  thee  !  " 

Then,  soldier,  come  over  the  seal 

The  gallant  soldier  came 

Over  tho  sea,  over  the  sea— 
The  gallant  soldier  came, 
To  win  his  fair  ladye  ! 
The  sea  is  calm. 

The  stars  are  bright. 
The  breeze  is  fair 
To  favor  flight, 
And  silently  they  glide. 
The  soldier  and  his  bride, 
Till,  all  their  danger  i)ast, 
His  joy  breaks  forth  at  last— 
"  Lnv'd  one,  wo  arc  free  ! 

Over  the  sea,  over  the  sea  ! " 


POM'ICAL    WonKS  0/',sM.Vf;A7.  lOVKli. 


no 


THE  FAIR  GAVENDALINK. 


DuTiiE  WHS    ho  auiuHlrcl,  niul  hri^'lit  was  liin  (fvo, 
It-,  had  but  one  fault— it  wan  looking  too  hi;,'h  ,• 
And  oft  as  ho  pa.s.s'd  by  the  ivy-dad  towor, 
His  glance  was  uprai.s'd  to  fair  Gwendaline'M  bow'r  ; 
Ho  gaz'd  at  lior  casement,  tho'  oft  half  uiVaid, 
Lest  his  eye  might  encounter  the  proud  noble  maiil, 
Fur  '.e  dar'd  not  to  venture  that  .^Iw  should  perceive, 
"What  he  trembled  to  trust  his  own  heart  to  believe. 

O,  blame  not  the  minstrel,  if  sometimes  he  prove 
Too  freely,  too  rashly,  the  victim  of  love— 
The  bosom  iviU  warm,  as  the  love-tale  he  sings. 
And  heart  answer  harp  in  the  deep-throbbing  strings! 
And,  O,  how  it  throbbed  'neath  hi.^  tremulous  nand, 
As  the  love-tale  ho  sang  at  his  lady's  command, 
80  lovely  while  listening -O,  who  (hat  had  seen, 
Could  blame  him  for  loving  the  bright  Gwondaline? 

But  what  means  the  pomp  of  that  gay  cavalcade  ? 

'Tis  an  earl,  in  his  pride,  claims  the  hand  of  the  maid  ; 

Away  from  tho  castle  is  Gwendaline  borne, 

And  dark  is  the  brow  of  the  minstrel  forlorn  ; 

But  darker  tho  myst'ry  that  shrouded  his  way. 

For  ne'er  was  he  traced  from  that  sad  festal  day. 

One  relic  alone  of  the  minstrel  was  seen  ; 

"Twas  his  harp,  in  the  bower  of  the  fair  Gwendaline ! 


"T 


220 


POEIIVAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE  PEARL  IS  UNDER  THE  WAVE. 


WiiEnE  suiibeaiiis  play 
O'er  the  Indian  bay, 

Arose  ii  blithosonio  sou</ 
From  the  fisher-boy, 

In  his  youthful  joy, 

As  ho  row'd  his  bark  along  ; 
As  he  rowM  his  bark 
To  the  dangers  dark 

His  (hiily  task  must  bring, 
He  sped  the  way 
To  his  cheerful  lav, 

For  thus  did  the  lisher-boy  sing, 
"  O  I   the  pearl  is  under  the  wave  1 " 

As,  o'er  the  bay, 
The  blithesome  lay 

Saluted  still  my  ear, 
I  thought  it  might 
Be  a  lesson  bright 

Some  drooping  heart  to  cheer. 
How  oft  we  find. 
By  Heav'n  desigu'd, 

That  good  should  spring  from  woo, 
And  sorrow's  tide 
Awhile  but  hide 

Some  joy  that  lies  below — 
As  the  pearl  Hes  under  the  wave. 


FOETIQAL  WOIiKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVER. 


221 


YOU  KNOW  NOT  HOW  I  LOVE  YOU 


You  Iciiow  not  how  I  love  you,  dca,!*, 

Yon  know  not  how  I  love  you ! 
There  is  a  charm  in  all  that  dwells 

Around,  below,  above  you  ! 
Altho'  the  lute  you  lov'd  to  touch 

So  silent  long  hath  lain,  love, 
I  know  that  thy  sweet  hand  ivas  there. 

And  mem'ry  wakes  the  strain,  love ! 

I  seek  thj'  silent  garden  bov/'r, 

To  mo  a  temple  fair,  love, 
"Where  I  may  fondly  v\'orship — tho' 

The  goddess  is  not  there,  love. 
Thy  fav'rite  llow'rs  I  pluck,  and  place 

Upon  my  votive  heart,  love  : — 
Tiiey  both  niaj'  wither,  and  yet  thou 

Ne'er  know  how  dear  thou  art,  love ! 


I  see  the  book  wherein  you  wrote  : — 

The  idle  jDen  beside  it 
Is  busy  in  my  wand'ring  thoughts 

With  love's  own  hand  to  guide  it! 
Then  fancy  ivrUes  the  ardent  vow 

I  never  dared  to  apeak,  love, 
Till  passion  burns  upon  my  brow  : — 

Oil ! — would  'twere  on  thy  chcvjk,  love ! 


222 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  .•SAMUEL  LOVER. 


BARNEY  O'HEA. 


Now  lot  mo  jilone  !— tlio'  I  know  you  won't, 
ImpiultMit  Barney  O'liea! 

It  makes  mo  outrageous, 

When  you're  so  contagious. 
And  you'd  l)etter  look  out  for  the  stout  Corny  Creagb, 

For  he  is  the  boy 

That  believes  I'm  his  joy, 
So  you'd  better  behave  yourself,  Barney  O'Hoa ! 

Impudent  Barney ! 

None  of  your  blarney  ! 

Impudent  Barney  O'Hea ! 


I  hope  you're  not  going  to  Bandon  fair, 
For  indeed  I'jn  not  wanting  to  meet  you  there ! 
Impudent  Barney  O'Hea ! 

For  Corny 's  at  Cork, 
And  my  brother's  at  work, 
And  my  motlier  sits  spinning  at  home  all  the  day. 
So,  as  none  will  be  there 
Of  poor  me  to  take  care, 
I  hope  you  won't  follow  me,  Barney  O'Hea  ! 
Impudent  Barney  ! 
None  of  your  blarney! 

Lnimdcnt  B.irncy  O'lloal 


!  :.'" 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


223 


But  as  1  was  walking  up  1 '  luclou  street, 
Just  who  do  you  think  'twas  myself  should  meet, 
But  that  impudent  Barney  O'Hea ! 
«     He  said  I  look'd  killiu', 
I  call'd  him  a  villain, 
And  bid  him,  that  minute,  get  out  of  my  way. 
He  said  I  was  jokiu' — 
And  look'd  so  provokin' — 
I  could  not  help  laughing  with  Barney  O'Hea ! 
Impudent  Barney ! 
'Tis  he  has  the  blarney ! 

That  impudent  Barney  O'Hea  1 


He  knew  'twas  all  right  when  he  saw  me  smile, 
For  he  is  the  rogue  up  to  every  wile, 
That  impudent  Barney  O'Hea ! 

Ho  coax'd  me  to  choose  him, 
For,  if  I'd  refuse  him. 
He  swore  he'd  kill  Corny  the  very  next  day  ; 
So,  for  fear  'twould  go  further, 
And — just  to  save  murther, 
I  think  I  must  marry  that  madcap  O'Hea. 
Bothering  Barney ! 
'Tis  he  has  the  blarney ! 

To  make  a  girl  Misthress  O'Hea 


'2'2i 


roKTii'AL    \\01:KS   (r^SAMlKL   LOYKIi. 


KATHLEEN   AND  THE  -SWALLOWS, 


SwKKT  Kiitliloeu,  Ijowitcliiug  yonno-  clianner, 

LookM  c.'uitiously  i-ound  thro'  the  vale, 
Kot  !i  Hi^lit  nor  fi  sound  did  alarm  her, 

As  she  set  dowu  her  full  inilking-pail ; 
Then,  quiek,  o'er  a  letter  slie  bended 

With  eager  inlent  her  dark  eye, 
Do  you  think  that  youn.LV  Kate  was  ofilnided  ?- 

Let  l\er  .smile  of  eontentment  reply. 

"Oh  Kate,"  said  the  letter,  "behevo  me, 

While  wand'ring  o'or  land  and  o'er  sea," 
-•-.>  time  of  luy  love  ean  b',  leave  thee, 

Thou  ever  art  present  to  me. 
As  the  hills,  o'er  the  lake  softly  swelling. 

In  the  waters  reilceted  are  .seen, 
So  softly,  HO  deeplv  is  d\velliiu>- 

Tn  my  h(-irt  thy  sweet  image,  Kathleen!  " 

'•Xow,  as  there  is  no  one  to  hear  me," 
Says  Kathleen,  "  I'ii  speak  out  what's  trne  ; 

I  wisl),  Devmot  dear,  you  were  near  me, 
Or  at  least,  dear,  that  I  was  near  you  ! 

O'er  tlie  water  is  sporting  the  swallow," 
Sigh'd  Kathleen— a  tear  in  her  eye. 


Oh  't 


IS  c;  er  ijie  vviuu  world  I  would  follow 


My  Dermot  a:<('m\  oonld  T  !l\- ! 


POETICAL    WOKIu'S  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEU, 


225 


THE   GUARD    SHIP.* 


See  at  her  anchor  riding 

Yon  ship  in  stately  pride, 
Siife  thro'  the  storm  abiding, 
Tlio'  wrecks  abound 
In  ruin  round 

On  the  darkly-raging  tide  : 
"What  stately  ship  art  thou  ? 

Ahoy  !  bravo  ship,  alioy  ! 
She  lifts  her  haughty  prow. 

And  hoists  h(}r  iiag  Avith  joy, 
And  the  Red  Cross  gleams  thro'  the  storm  so  drear, 
And  her  crew  shout  forth  with  a  manly  cheer, 
"  'Tis  the  BRITANNIA,  whose  Hag  yet  never  fell 

In  the  fight,  or  the  storm  :— all's  well !  all's  well !  " 

"  Steady's  "  the  word  ia  war,  boys, 

AVhen  the  Red  Cross  wins  the  light ; 
"  Steady's  "  the  word  in  peace,  boys, 
"When  clouds  grow  dark 
O'er  the  brave  old  bark 

But  the  Red  Cross  still  is  bright. 
Ne'er  shall  that  proud  ihig  quail. 

Ne'er  shall  that  bold  crew  tiro. 
Ne'er  shall  the  anchor  fail 

That's  forged  in  freedom's  fire  ! 

*■  Written  in  18-AS,  when  political  disturbance  was  provalesit  over  the  coiv. 
tiuorit  of  Europe. 


226  POKTKJAL    WOIIKS  OF  SAMUKL    LOVFJl. 

Alul  the  lied  Cross  gleams  tlii-o'  the  storm  so  drear, 
And  h(!r  crew  shout  f(n-t]i  with  a  manly  cheer, 

"  'Tis  the  BlUTANXIA,  whoso  lla^r  yet  never  fell 
lu  the  fight,  or  the  storm— all's  well !  all's  well !  " 


AVHAT  A  DANGEROUS  WOMAN  AM  I! 

IN    TlIK   BIIAMA    OF   M.VCCARTUY   MORE. 


SiK  Peignoiu-.    "  Ah,  you  MacCartliys  are  a  dangerous  set; 

We  well  may  doubtyou!" 
Maiiv  Ausicen  in  iSoiig. 

Why  should  you  doubt  me  because  in  this  bosom 

Nature  hath  sown,  with  a  generous  hand, 
Feelings  of  love  ?— and  for  worlds  I'd  not  lose  'em^ 

Feelings  that  cling  to  my  own  native  land ! 
Could  I  betray  it,  what  vow  e'er  could  bind  me  ? 

They  will  keej:*  more  who  keep  one  holy  tie  !— 
See  what  a  dangerous  woman  you  find  me — 

O,  what  a  dangerous  woman  am  I ! 

Long  live  the  Queen!  and  may  Heaven  defend  her  ! 

I  love  not  the  King  *  who  is  over  the  sea  ; 
In  truth,  sir,  I  ne'er  could  abide  a  jjix'tender— 

They'd  better  be  always  in  earned  with  me  ! 
'Twas  not  a  traitor  that  Nature  design'd  me, 

The  best  of  the  loyal  would  die  to  be  free  : 

See  what  a  dangerous  woman  you  find  me, 

O  !  what  a  dangerous  woman  am  I ! 

*  James  the  Second  of  England. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


22( 


LANTY  LEARY. 


Lanty  ^Yai3  iu  love,  you  see, 

"With  lovely,  lively  Eosie  Carey, 
But  her  father  can't  agree 

To  give  the  girl  to  Lauty  Lcary, 
"  Up  to  fun,  away  we'll  run," 

Says  she,  "  my  father's  so  conthrairy. 
Won't  you  follo\\fejue  ?  won't  you  follow  me  ?  " 

"  Faith  I  will,"  says  Lanty  Leary  ! 


f'v\ 


But  licr  father  died  one  day 

(I  hear  'twas  not  by  dlirinkiu'  wather)  ; 
House  and  land  and  cash,  they  say, 

He  left  by  will  to  Rose  his  daughther  ; 
House  and  land  and  cash  to  seize, 

Away  she  cut  so  light  and  airy, 
"  Won't  you  follow  me  ?   won't  you  follow  me  ?  " 

"  Faith  I  will ! "  says  Lanty  Leary. 

Rose,  herself,  was  taken  bad, 

The  fayver  worse  each  day  was  growin', 
"  Lanty  dear,"  says  she,  "  'tis  sad, 

To  th'  other  world  I'm  surely  goin', 
You  can't  survive  my  loss  I  know, 

Nor  long  remain  iu  TiiDperary, 
Won't  you  follov/  me  ?  won't  you  follow  me  ?  " 

Frith  I  W'on't,"  says  Lanty  Leary! 


'2'2H 


i'Oi::TI<:AL   :t>i:K>  ifj<-  s.\mukl  lovkh. 


THE  LASSIE   OE  LUCKNOW. 

i^w,  TJii;  I'lur.o'ju  oi'  macgkegou. 


•'  WuuiE  ha'  you  been  m'  the  dciv, 

Wiie-W(jru  lassie  ? 
Whore  ha'  you  heeu  a'  tho  day, 

"Wae-v.-orii  lassie?  " 
''  Miiiglii);^^  ill  llio  (Ifsp'rato  liyht, 
Tondiiin'  i()  the  sojor'n  mi^'ht,-'= 
}{f'V.)t;s  aii  (if  valor  livinht 

As  ever  fought  at  Pla#r>y/' 

"Plasspy  was  a  Avoi.drous  light, 

."\fy  lirau'  la  isie, 
PlasRoy  was  a  wondrous  fight, 

^fy  brau-  lassio."  - 
'•  \\\  .'ill  hour  was  Piassoy-won  ; 
i'ul.  licvc,  iVoui  (lawn  till  sot  of  sun, 
-\over  is  the  coniiict  done  ; 

"I'is  \\\-Q  far  waiir  th m  Plasscy  !  " 

"  To-morrow's  eve  niav  cud  tho  I'rav, 

3Iy  pnir  lassie, 
To-morrow's  ovo  may  end  the  fray, 

My  pnir  lassie  ;  " 
''Tomorrow's  eve  maun  end  tlio  fniv— 
For  if  no  i-escno  come  the  day, 
Our  bones  will  bleach  on  Indian  clav, 

Awa'  xrae  kirk-yard  grassy. " 

♦The  gallaut  women,  at  tlie  lucmorablo  defciicc  of  Liicknoiv,  (.•arriod  cofTei 
til  tlie  soliliiM'ii  wliile  fniriieoil  on  tfin  vaiuDarts. 


roKTlCM.   WokhS  OF  SAMrKI.    l.oVKU. 


221) 


At  the  morn  she  broatli'd  a  pray'r, 

Th:it  jTfuiil  lassio  ; 
At  the  morn  ,-;1h'  hi-fatliM  ii  ]>iay'r, 

That  yniil  lassie  ; 
Then  she  c!i('(!r'(l  tlu;  K'tj(>r.s  thoro, 
W'bilf.s  a  smile,  a'  >.  wliilcs  a  pray'r, 
"Oh!  if  flic  Campbells  witii  us  were! 

This  Imhfc  wert!  mair  tl;a:i  Plassev  !  " 

The  lassie  stood,  as  if  a  sjieil 

AVerc  ev'ry  .sen.se  benumbing,', 
The  lassie  stood  as  if  a  S2)eli 

Were  ev'rv  sense  beuiimbincf, 
But;  oh  ! — her  joy  what  toiig'ue  can  tell, 
"When,  pealin,^-  up  the  dusky  dell, 
She  heard  rv[aegre;','or's  pibroch  swell, 
'•  The  Camiibells  a'  are  comin"' !  " 


A   CONTENTED  rROPRIETOR. 


I  HAVE  plenty  of  dutiful  vassals. 

Have  plenty  of  gold,  and  to  spare, 
I  have  plenty  of  beautiful  castles — 

But  my  castles  are  built  in  the  air. 
And  my  vassals  are  ail  airy  creatures, 

From  beautiful  dreamland  are  thev, 
They  drive  me  to  balls 
And  magniliceut  halls 

And  tell  me  my  coach  stops  the  way ! 


W' 


ii 


-^1 

II  T  ! 


2-M) 


roKTK.Wl.   WoliKS  OF  .SAMUKL  iMVKli. 


But  (»!:,  nh;it  a  pcsf, 
■Wlicii  it  coiiK's  to  tlio  test, 

I  uiii  ktipt  in  a  dreadful  delay ! 
Oh  !  pliipjno  on  those  wild  little  vassals, 

You  can't  trust  a  word  tliat  they  say, 
And  I've  heard  tliat  my  beautiful  castles 

Are  sadly  inclined  to  decay. 

Father  Wisdom  advised  mo  to  sell  them 

To  the  public,  a  benefit  clear. 
And  Fancy  en<,'af,^ed  so  to  tell  them— 

For  Fancy's  a  line  auctioneer  ! 
But  the  market  by  no  means  was  lively, 

For  castles  the  call  was  but  cold, 
Lead  and  iron  were  brisk, 
But  f,'old  none  would  risk 

To  invest  on  my  battlements  bold, 
So  my  castles,  unlet, 
I  inhabit  them  yet, 

And  rather  rejoice  they're  not  sold, 
And  never  a  bit  am  down-hearted, 

For  my  vassals  still  ply  me  with  gold  ; 

From  my  castles  I  ne'er  shall  be  parted 

Till  the  heart  of  the  owner  be  cold  ! 

Again  Father  Wisdom  address'd  me— 

He's  a  horrid  old  bore,  in  his  way. 
He  said  rats  and  mice  would  infest  me 

As  crumbled  my  tow'rs  to  decay. 
"  They  never  can  crumble,  good  father. 

They're  lasting  when  once  they're  begun. 
Our  castles  of  air 
We  can  quickly  repair 

As  the  home  of  the  spider's  re-spun  ! " 


poi-:ti(al  works  of  samukl  lovku. 

So,  huiiu!\v<u"(l  I  went, 
AVith  Jiiy  ciiHtles  coiitoiit, 

As  the  vesper  boll  told  day  was  done  ; 
And  my  ciiHtles  look'd  lovely  as  ever, 

As  huruish'd  they  stood  in  the  sun — 
Oh  !  ne'er  from  my  castles  I'll  sever 

Till  th)  sraids  of  niy  {,'lass  slniU  bo  run  ! 


231 


EASTWARD  HO! 

BONO   OF    THf:;    WOMEN   TO    THE  S0LDIEU3    OF    GIIEAT    BRriAIN. 


Eastwaud  ho  !  eastward  ho ! 

To  meet  the  foe  our  warriors  sail, 
The  partinj,'  cheer  salutes  the  ear, 

The  spreading  canvas  courts  the  gale  ; 
To  see  them  part  how  many  a  heart, 

Is  heaving-  like  the  ocean's  swell, 
Sinking  low,  as  they  go — 

"  Gallant  soldiers,  favo-thcc-well !  " 

Westward  no !  westward  ho  ! 

HoMiewai'd,  when  the  warriors  bravo. 
With  names  renown'd,  and  honor  crowu'd. 

Are  proudly  borne  along  the  wave. 
With  eager  eye  will  they  descry 

Old  England's  cliffis  above  the  foam  : — 
With  duty  done,  and  laurels  won, 

GaUant  soldiers,  welcome  home  ! 


W 


232 


J'OKTIVAL  WOJiAS  OF  .SAMUEL   LOVKIl 


THOU   WILT   NOT  rilOWN  Ox\  ME. 


CoMK,  clear  tlio  fihiul(iw  from  tlmt  brow, 

yo  ill  becomiiif*  tlicc, 
Thou  wouldst  not  avouiuI  thy  okl  frioiul  now, 

Thou  wilt  not  frown  on  lur. 
Should  one  slin;ht  word  that  gave  th(jo  pain 

Outwcjnfh  the  love  of  years  ?— 
Nay,  lift  those  drooping  eyes  again, 

They  ne'er  were  meant  for  tears. 

Oh,  trust  mo,  wo  shall  yet  again 

Sweet  wishes  intertwine, 
And,  as  of  old,  no  joy  or  pain 

Of  yours,  but  shall  bo  mine  ; 
Come,  let  me  take  thy  hand  again, 

Whose  pulse  is  not  more  true 
To  mark  the  beating  of  thy  heart 

Than  is  my  faith  to  you,— 

And,  as  the  harp-string  will  respond 

When  courted  by  the  wind, 
So  should  the  breath  of  friendship  fund 

llesponsive  music  find  ; 
What— silent  still?— then  be  it  so 

Consent  in  silence  lies  ; — 
Thy  lips  forgiveness  may  bestow 

Tho'  not  a  word  replies  ! 


JUjJiIJrM.    WoliKS   OF  .'>A.\tl  K/.    L'/VKU. 


233 


THE  THRKE  LOVES. 


Since  luem'ry'a  ray 
Can  light  the  Aviiy 
O'er  which  my  fancy  wild  did  rovo, 
The  only  thouj^lifc  I  had,  was  love — 
At  least  I  seldom  had  another. 
Oh !  pure  and  bright  a.s  morning  dew 
The  first  love  that  my  bosom  knev/, 
For  thou  I  lov'd  my  mother  1 

JRnt  fate  tinldnd 
Did  soon  unbind 
That  tie  of  most  endearing  sway  ; 
My  mother  dear  was  call'd  away  ; 

And  oh  !  how  bitterly  I  miss'd   lor  I 
But  when  that  mother  dear  wa      one, 
I  still  must  lo-.o  some  other  one, 
So  tluMi  r  V    '  ]  my  sister. 

'Twii  ^  then  to  cheer 
That  sister  dear, 
A  fair  young  friend  in  pity  llcw  ; — 
Sh<!  waked  in  mo  sensations  new  ; — 

'Twas  then  I  first  felt  Cupid's  fetter. 
From  ll'.ivt;  swct't  t!'.!'^!'  T  iijiisf  <MmfV'"5'5 
I  lov'd  my  sister — son.ttiiing  less    - 
And  t'other  l;ulv  better. 


,^mmiBmsms^ammmgMims^mi^KtUStl^,ilM)!srmmfmimjaa^ 


234 


I'OETICAL   WOliKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


SWEET  MEMORY. 


Like  golden  clouds  of  summer  eve  that  brightly  linger  yet, 
Reflectiug  back  the  glories  of  the  sun  that  long  hath  set, 
So,  when  we  part  from  friends  we  love,  whom  long  we  maj 
not  see, 

We  hail  the  light  of  parting  smiles,  sweet  Memory,  from  thee. 
But  if  that  friendly  parting  should  be  sadden'd  by  a  tear. 
Let  us  hail  it  like  the  rain-di-op  in  the  spring-time  of  the 
yea  r ; 

For,  as  showers  waken  blossoms  from  their  cold  and  wintry 
sleoj), 

Such  tears  may  ripen  thoughts  of  love   that  Memory  wiU 
ke?  p. 


MY  GONDOLETTA. 


My  Goiidoletta  waits  for  you  : 

The  suuboam  on  the  summer  sea 
Has  kiss'd  the  wave  in  sweet  adieu. 

Then  come,  Niiiotta,  come  with  me. 
As  dips  the  oar,  the  liquid  lights 

In  sparkling  dance  shall  round  us  plaj-, 
As  if  the  gentle  water-sprites 

Their  night  tires  lent  to  guide  our  way. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEh. 


235 


nger  yet, 
til  set, 
'^  we  maj 

rom  thee. 

a  tear, 
ae  of  the 


Now,  iu  the  bhie  sky,  there  and  here 

The  stars  are  peeping,  one  by  one. 
Like  beauties  sage,  who  ne'er  appear 

Till  clay's  ungentle  light  be  gone. 
And  gondoliers  suspend  the  oar 

Of  ev'ry  bark  we  glide  along. 
To  catch  the  sound  the  waters  bore 

Of  fair  Niuctta's  siren  song. 


id  wintry 
aory  will 


DEAREST,  TELL  ME  WHY. 


Dearest,  dearest,  tell  me  why. 

When  thou'rt  absent,  nothing  seems 
So  fair  as  when  thou'rt  by  ? 

Tell  me  wh}', 
In  the  tissue  of  my  dreams, 

Thou  art  interwove — 

If  it  be  not  love  ? 

Dearest,  dearest,  tell  me  why. 

To  hear  thy  name  my  heart  beats  fast, 
Tho'  to  be  calm  I  try  ? 

Tell  me  why 
Thy  smiles,  upon  another  cast, 

To  me  but  anguish  prove— 

If  it  be  not  love  ? 


I 


'  'i 


23G 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


A  WISH  AND  A  WARNING, 


When  thou  tliink'st  of  days  gone  by, 

Lady  fair, 
May  thy  bosom  heave  no  sigh, 

Lady  fair, 
May  no  bitter  thotight  reproach  thcf 
As  the  fading  days  approach  thee. 
Free  from  tear-drop  be  thine  eye, 

Lady  fair. 


If  sucli  blessing  thou  would'st  g;iin. 

Lady  fair. 
Give  no  bosom  present  pain, 

Lady  f;>ir, 
With  no  honest  heart  dissemble  ; 
If  tlion  dost— oh,  lady,  tremble  : 
Thou  wilt  drag  a  heavy  chain. 

Lad}-  fair ! 

If  a  wedded  fate  thou  meetest. 

Lady  fair, 
(Fate  the  bitterest  or  the  sweetest. 

Lady  fair, ) 
Faith  and  truth  must  have  a  place  there 
If  without — there  is  no  grace  there  ; 
I3ut  ^oith  these,  joy  is  completest, 

Lady  fair. 


roETUJAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


237 


LOST,  LOSTI 


Oji,  tho  sweet  bird  that  sang  to  me 

All  the  year  round  so  sweet  a  song, 
Adding  a  grace  to  the  summer  tree. 

And  making  the  winter  appear  less  long. 
'Twas  not  the  linnet,  it  was  not  the  wren, 
'Twas  not  the  robin— oh,  what  was  it  then  ? 
But  whatever  its  name,  or  whatever  its  lay, 
Tliat  sweet  little  bird  has  flown  away. 


'Twas  not  a  stranger  bird  that  flies, 

Seeking  fresh  summer  over  the  sea, 
Frcelv  ho  lived  in  our  Northern  skies, 

.'      .  ,-.iug,  tlie  year  round,  so  cheerily. 
Vc.ici)  of  cncliautntent  I — oh,  why  did  it  ily  ? 
You  cannot  tell  any  more  than  I, 
But  whatever  its  name,  or  whatever  its  lay, 
That  sweet  little  bird  has  fiowu  away. 

Where  has  he  flown  to  ? — oh,  could  I 

But  learn  the  way  and  find  the  v/ing, 
After  my  own  sweet  bird  I'd  fly, 

And  bless  the  bright  hour  I  could  hear  him  sing  I 
'Twas  not  the  linnet,  'twas  not  tlie  wren, 
'Twas  not  tljo  robin,  oh,  what  was  it  then  ?— 
Ah  !  where  is  the  fond  one  that  hears  me  %m'r 

O 

Who  never  hath  wept  o'or  yome  ilcetiug  thing  I 


238 


rOETtGAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


Ml 


THAT  BOGUE,  KILEY. 


T  iere's  a  boy  that  follows  mo  ev'ry  day, 

And  tho'  he  declares  that  I  use  him  vilely, 
Xet  all  I  can  say  he  won't  go  away, 

That  obstinate,  ranting  Riley ! 
In  ev'ry  street  'tis  him  I  meet, 

In  vain  some  by-way  path  I  try, 
The  very  shadow  of  mj  feet 

I  might  as  well  attempt  to  fly 
As  that  boy  that  follows  mo  every  day, 

Although  he  declares  that  I  use  him  vilely, 
Yet  all  I  can  say  he  won't  go  away, 

That  raking,  ranting  Riley  1 

My  mother  she  sent  me  ten  miles  away, 
In  hopes  that  the  fellow  would  never  find  me, 

But  the  very  next  day,  as  we  made  the  hay, 
The  villain  stood  close  behind  me  ; 

"  For  this,"  says  I,  "  you'll  dearly  pay, 
How  dare  you  such  a  freedom  take  ?" 

Say  he,  "  I  heard  you  vv^ero  making  hay. 
So  I  thought,  my  dear,  you'd  want  a  rake. 

And  therefore  I  foUow'd  you  here  to  day, 

With  your  diamond  eye,  and  your  point  so  wiJy, 

uike  a  needle— and  hid  in  a  bundle  of  hay- 
But  I  found  you  out !  "  says  Riley, 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

I  told  him,  at  last,  in  a  rage,  to  pack. 

And  he  fought,  for  a  while  after  that,  more  shily, 
But,  like  a  bad  shilling,  he  still  comes  back, 

That  counterfeit  rogue !  that  Kiley  I 
To  hunt  me  up  he  takes  disguise, 

Last  week  a  beggar  wench  appears, 
'Twas  the  rogue  himself— but  I  knew  his  eyes— 

And  didn't  I  box  the  rascal's  ears  ! 
Yet  still  he  keeps  following  ev'ry  day. 

Plotting  and  planning  so  'cute  and  slily— 
There  isn't  a  fox  more  tricks  can  play 

Than  that  ranting  rogue,  that  Riley  1 


230 


A  nunnery,  now,  my  old  maiden  aunt 

Declares  for  young  women  the  best  protection, 
But  shelter  so  very  secure,  I  can't 

Consider  without  objection. 
A  plague  o'  the  feUows !— both  great  and  small 

They  bother  one  so  till  they  find  a  wife  :— 
Yet,  if  we  should  never  be  bothcr'd  at  all, 

I  think  'twould  be  rather  a  stupid  life ; 
So  the  rogue  still  follows  me  ev'ry  day. 

And  still  I  continue  to  use  him  vilely. 
But  the  neighbors  all  say,  till  I'm  turn'd  to  clay, 

I'll  never  get  rid  of  Riley  1 


ily. 


•If  i 


240 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  -"^AMUKL  LOVER. 


i    '!■': 


SPEITE   OF  THE  TO  AM. 

CAVATINA. 


Come  ;nvay — come  away — 
O'er  the  .sijarkling  spray — 

I  am  a  sprite  of  the  foam  ; 
Down  ill  the  deep, 
Wliere  the  mermaids  sleep, 

Tlierc  is  my  coral  liome. 
Come  where  Echo's  daughters 

Dwell  in  their  ocean  caves, 
Mocking  ripliiig  waters 

Of  the  silver  waves. 

Come  away— come  away,  &o. 


WE  SHALL  HAVE  OUK  MOONLICUiT  YET. 


Tiio'  days  iire  gor       ]ion  you  and  I 

First  wove  the      ,ks  of  pleasure's  chain- 

Tho'  youthful  joys  are  all  gone  by, 
We  never  more  shall  see  again, 

Yet  ia  those  eyes,  oft  diium'd  with  tears, 
Ft)r  nic  both  light  and  lovo  remain 

To  make  uniViL  the  blight  of  vears — 


To  bid  (hi:;  hcMrl  be  vo 


ung  again ! 


r  mKismmmmim 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEK. 


241 


The  mora  is  o'er,  tlio  day  is  past, 

The  eveiiiiig  closes  round  us  now  ; 
Long-  shadows  o'er  the  vale  are  cast — 

But  light  still  gilds  the  niouutaiu's  brow  ; 
And  when,  at  last,  the  sun  goes  dov.'u, 

And  ev'ry  ling'ring  ray  hath  set, 
The  night  assumes  her  silver  crown— 

And  we  shall  have  our  moonlight  yet ! 


rilOM  MAllY  FAR  AWAY. 


it 


The  evening  light  was  dying, 

The  boat  row'd  from  the  strand, 
The  exile  deeply  sighing 

To  leave  his  native  land  ; 
But  sighs  were  on  the  shore,  as  well, 

As,  o'er  the  dark'niug  bay. 
Young  INfary  watch'd  the  fading  sail 

That  bore-her  love  away. 

The  exile  reach'd  a  foreign  shore. 

In  camp  and  court  he  shone. 
With  brave  and  fair  renown  ho  bore, 

Yet  still  ho  felt  alone. 
A  void  was  in  the  soldier's  heart 

Amid  the  bold  and  gay, 
He  mourn 'd  the  hour  that  bade  him  part 

From  Mary,  fur  away! 


POLTICAL    ^\■OJlKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEH 


wl 


THE  LAST  AVOMAN. 


{Melange  faniastlqne,  in  an.sn-er  to  the  cdH.ratcd  song  of  •'  The  Last  Man."] 

Bc^sv.-The  FaskiomhJe  Worhl.     Vurour.v  II„a„T,VKu  enters  hrilUantlu 
habited  in  tice  venj  ne„jld  of  the  ./i,.vA ion..     Me  sinr/s^  " 


IIECITATIVO. 

Havb  you  never  hoard  the  story  of  the  very  Last  Man,  that 

remnant  of  creation  ? 
A  state  of  single  blessedness,  suggesting  not  to  me  the  most 

agreeable  contemjilation, 
For  I  have  no  spite  against  the  men  myself,  or  I  might  say 

indeed  I  heartily  wish  them  well. 
But  as  for  the  women  I  wouldn't  much  care  if  the  Sexton 

had  them  all  with  his  ding,  dong,  bell. 
All  the  won^en,  save  myself,  from  whence  I  conceive  a  most 

excellent  plan, 

And  one  much  more  amusing  than  that  doleful  old  delusion 
of  that  last  poor  man. 

MOTIVO. 

For  oh  !  if  I  were  the  last  woman, 

What  fun  it  would  be ! 
My  slaves  all  around  I  would  summoa 

To  kneel  down  to  me  ! 
All  the  men 
Would  lie  then 

At  my  feet. 
Oh  what  a  triumph  ! 

A  triumph  complete  I 


'POETICAL  WOnKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEH. 


243 


JastMan."] 

(  hriUiantbj 


Ian,  that 
the  most 
light  say 
B  Sexton 
3  a  most 
dek;sion 


One  woman  alone- 
Only  one ! 
Oh  what  fun ! 
To  win  Mfi,  throughout  ev'ry  nation, 
Would  soon  be  tlie  grand  speculation, 
His  very  hisu  guinea  each  man  would  enibtirk  it, 


F 


/•EXCH  Am.      Vouh'z  vans  dam 


•(')'. 


And  how  my  shares  would  go  up  in  tho  market, 
Number  one ! 
Oh  what  fun  ! 


LCu, 


How  my  shares  would  go  up  in  the  mar: 

Fal  lal  la,  fal  lal  de  ral  la  ! 
More  attractive  I'd  be  than  a  siren, 
I'd  rule  men  with  a  rod  of  iron. 
Their  noses  on  grindstone^.  I'd  rub  down  to  snubs, 
I'd  banish  cigars  and  I'd  shut  up  the  clubs. 
How  my  shares  would  go  up  in  the  market ! 

My  wink  Avould  fetch  ten  thousand  pounds, 
My  smile  a  million  !  kiss-hand  a  bilHon  ! ! 

And  kings  would  ask  me  to  be  cruwn'd  ! ! ! 
I  fear  there  would  be  the  deuce  to  pay, 
Five  hundred  duels  they'd  light  each  day. 
No  magician  e'er  held  a  v/and, 
With  half  the  power  of  my  ''preference,  bond." 

Fal  lal  la,  fal  lal  de  ral  la  ! 

[Exit,  dancing. 


t, 


I; 


2JI 


POEIILWL   \VoI!K!>  OF  tSAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE  QUAKEK'S  MEETING. 


■is: 


A  TKAVEi.Eu  wended  the  wilds  among, 

With  ix  pmvse  of  -old  and  a  silver  ton.rrne  ; 

His  liat  it  was  broad  and  all  dralj  were  his  clotlies, 

For  he  hated  high  colors-except  on  his  nose, 

And  he  met  with  a  lady,  the  .story  goes. 

Heigho  !  yea  thee  and  iwij  thee. 


ill 


I  ^i 


The  dam.sel  she  ca.st  liim  a  beamy  blink, 
And  the  tr.aveler  nothing  was  loll!,  I  think, 
Her  merry  black  eye  beamed  her  bonnet  beneath 
And  the  Quaker  he  grinned-for  he'd  very  good  teeth. 
And  he  a.sk'd,  "Art  thee  going  to  ride  on  the  heath?" 
Heigho !  yea  thee  and  nay  thee. 

"  I  hope  you'll  protect  me,  kind  sir,"  said  the  maid, 
"  As  to  ride  this  heath  over  I'm  sadiv  afraid  ; 
For  robbers,  tliey  f,ay,  hero  in  numbers  abound. 
And  I  wouldn't  'for  anything'  I  should  be  found 
Eor-between  you  and  me-I  i)ave  five  hundred  pound." 
Heigho  !  yea  thee  and  nay  thee. 

II  If  that  IS  thee  *  own  dear,"  (lie  Quaker  he  said, 
"  I  ne'er  saw  a  maiden  I  sooner  would  wed  ; 


POKTldM.   WOUKS  OF  SAMVKI.    I.OVKIi 

Alul  I  have  another  five  huiulretl  just  now, 
In  the  jjaddin;^;'  tlint's  under  in-v  .,..ddlc-bow, 
And  I'll  .settle  it  all  upon  thee,  I  vow  ! " 

Heigho  !  yea  thee  and  nay  thee. 


245 


The  maiden  she  smil'd,  and  her  rein  she  drew, 
••  Your  oiler  I'll  take— thouf^h  I'll  not  take  you." 
A  pistol  she  held  at  the  Quaker's  head — 
"  Now  give  me  youi  gold—  or  I'll  give  you  my  lead- 
'Tis  under  the  saddle  I  think  you  said." 

Heiglio  !  yra  thee  and  nay  thee. 


The  damsel  she  ripped  up  the  saddle-bow, 
And  the  Quaker  was  never  a  Quaker  till  now. 
And  he  saw,  by  the  fair  one  ho  wished  for  a  bride, 
His  purse  borne  away  witli  a  swnggering  stride, 
And  the  eye  that  sluimm'd  tender,  now  onlv  delied. 
Heigho  !  yea.  thee  and  nay  thee. 


"The  s^.iiit  doth  m>  ve  nio,  friend  Broadbrim,"  quoth  she, 
"  To  take  all  this  filtliy  temptation  froi^i  Ihee, 
For  JIammou  deceiveth — and  beauty  is  llee!ii>'>-  ; 
Accept  from  thy  inaaid'n  a  righ    loving-  grectifig, 
For  much  doth  she  proiit  by  this  Quaker's  meeting 
Heigho  !  yea  thee  and  nay  thee. 


ig- 


"And  hark  !  jolly  Quaker,  so  rosy  and  sly. 

Have  rigliteou.sness,  more  than  a  wench,  in  thine  eye, 

Don't  go  again  peeping  girls'  bonnets  b-neath, 

Ilememb'.M-  the  oiin  tb.at  yon  mot  on  the  heatli 

Her  name'.s  Jimmy  Barlow — I  tell  to  your  teeth  1  " 
Heigho  !  yea  thee  and  nay  thee. 


21(1 


m 


^-■ii,,.jti 


iv 


A 


I'ohynCAT.  WOIih'S  OF  SAMirm.   I.OVEU. 


//•-../ Jan.cs,-  quoth  the  Quaker,  «  prav  listen  to  me, 
l'"r  tiu-u  canst  confer  n  grout  favor,  d>o  see  ; 
'I'Ik-  -old  Uiou  h'M  tak-tn  ia  not  mine,  my  friend, 
Bat  my  musterH-and  truly  o)i  Iheo  I  dopeud,  ' 
T.)  make  it  appear  I  my  trust  did  defoml" 
Heigho  !  yua  theo  and  nntj  thee. 

"So  fire  a  few  shots  throuf,'h  my  clothes,  here  and  there, 
To  make  it  appear  'twas  a  desp'rato  affair."— 
So  Jim  lie  popp'd  tirst  through  the  skirt  of  ins  coat, 
And  tlien  through  his  collar-quite  close  to  his  throat ; 
"Now  one  through  my  broadbrim"  quoth  Ephraim,  "I  ^^to.'• 
Heigho  1  yea  theo  and  my  thee. 

"  I  Imvo  but  a  brace,"  said  bold  Jin),  "  and  they  re  spent. 
And  I  won't  load  again  for  a  make-believe  rent."   ^ 
'«  Th(.ri"~said  Ephraim,  producing  hh  pistols-'- just  givo 
My  five  hundred  pounds  bar-k-or  as  sure  as  vou  live 
I'll  make  of  your  body  a  riddle  or  sieve." 
Heigho!  ym  theo  and  nay  thee. 

Jim  Barlow  was  diddled-and,  though  he  wa.s  game, 
He  saw  Ephraim's  pistol  so  deadly  in  aim. 
That  he  gave  up  the  gold,  and  he  took  to 'his  scrapers 
And  when  the  whole  story  got  into  the  papers. 
They  said  that  -  Ih,'  fhieves  were  no  match  for  the  Quakers." 
Heigho  !  yea  thee  and  nay  thee. 


I 


POKTIVAL  WOltKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVKIi. 


247 


mo. 


iero, 


I  vote." 


ont, 
give 


ers. 


OH!  AVHAT  CAKE  I  FOE  ANCIENT  LORDLY  H.U:.L. 


Oh  !  what  care  I  iov  ancient  lordly  hall, 

Where  pride  and  pomp  unjoyona  dwell? 
An  older,  i)rouder  home,  my  own  I  call — 

It  is  my  green  and  native  mountain  dell : 
Its  lofty  walls  are  rais'd  by  Heav'n's  own  hand, 
Its  roof  is  Heav'ii  ,■:  •^^vn  blue. 
And  sparJiiig  stai  ^  at  night, 
In  living  Iu:-n'e  bri^iit, 
Give  light  at  Hea\'!i's  f^camand, 
While  fairies  aip  Liie  dew. 

Oh  !  what  ciro  I,  kc. 

Around  our  cot  behold,  in  gay  festoon, 

The  rip'ning  clusters  of  the  vine, 
While  winning  breezes  e'en  at  burning  noon 

Hark  to  the  murmur  of  the  whisp'ring  pine. 
And  while  we  lie  beneath  its  cooling  shade, 
Our  ripe  grapes  promise  wine, 
To  fill  the  sparkling  cup 
AVith  hearty  wishes  up 
To  my  own  blooming  maid. 
Or  fiiithful  friend  of  niiue. 

Oh  !  what  care  I,  ka 


i 


I 


ilH 


I'Mi 


J'o}..T/ru^    (!v,/.a:s   ur  SAMCfa   LoVi:ii. 


m 


A  SOFT  llEGRET. 

SOXO    OV   T}IR   IJVKr.V    V.-IDOW. 

(Vmi  of  a  ^horl  Fntnia'imnenf.) 

MrsT  joy  a-aiu  iieVr  lio-lit  tlie  eyo, 

■\Vitli  teav-drop.s  vv-ci  ? 
:>rnsfc  nionniers  never,  jjevoi-  ti-j 

To  cliaiio-e  Jjpji-  j,.^.  ?  " 

I  wonld  iiof,  l)a  li;ir.!-l)eai-(c(l-i,o- 
To  luy  dear  IVicml,  cr  dearer  foe  ; 
I  would  not  tliat  soft  sen.^e  foreq-o__ 
I  can't  tell  wiiat-but  you  all  know- 

A"somothing"-ofwl,;.i,u-o  complain, 

Ihat  doeo  iu)t  -ive  exceeding  pain, 

^^nd  which  one  phm^e  ^vi]l  best  explain- 

"  A  soft  regret !  " 

^H«f.    Sud.  .  loHs!    U„t  wo  „u,st  aot  in-aliou.-dly  c,„a,.ki„ 

(>SV/Ji,.s)-_A  soft  regret!  a  soft  regret ! 

Must  ev'i-y  i])Pme  for  ever  lie 

Witli  ])rai.ses  uiet? 

Oh.  be  there  ever  left  to  me 

A  soft  regi'ct ! 


POETICAL  WOJiKii  OF  ^M^/i/A'A  LOVER. 


2-19 


Hi  my 

rcoino 
mr.sfc 

et! 


If  fill  inj'  friends  were  perfect  quite, 

'T  would  be  a  surfeit  of  delight  ; 

In  fact,  it  would  not  be  quite  right — 

Too  niucli  for  iiiortiils — so,  when  spite 

Says  Mistress  A  fi5id  Mistress  B 

Driuk  something  stronger  than  their  tea. 

The  story  only  yields  to  nio 

"  A  soft  rogvei !  " 

(Spral'.-t.) — Indeed,  my  dear,  if  is  a  pity! — but  wlio  raa 
wonder,  sifter  such  losses  as  theirs  ?  They  lost  all  their 
money  in  that  company  intended  to  supply  London  ^\•ilh 
pure  xcater, — no  wonder  that  pure  water  inr,%i  have  been 
disagreeable  to  them,  after  that.  And  what  a  s;id  crj nr^-e 
that  is  about  our  friends  in  tlio  square!  And  that  tciriljle 
gold-dtist  robbery,  too  ! — isn't  it  fearful !  And  the  ]ol>ber 
])retending  to  be  repentant  when  he  war--  m)  jail,  repeating 
all  the  pious  sayings  the  chaplain  taught  him!  and  when 
the  dear  pious  chapLiin  asked  him  about  his  hopes  in  the 
future,  ho  said,  "To  dust  I  will  return  !  "  But  for  all  these 
blackslidings  of  poor  luimanity,  I  entertain — 

{Sings)  —  .\  soft  regret !  a  soft  regret  I 

And  they  who  shar'd  this  tender  heart, 

How  gently  yet 
Their  mem'ry  makes  the  teardrop  start 

With  soft  regret ! 
I've  wept  the  dear  ones  o'er  and  o'er, 
But,  ns  my  tears  cannot  rest(n'e 
The  loss  so  truly  I  deplore, 
'Twere  folly  weeping  any  more  ; 
The  willow  is  a  graceful  tree, 


I 


2o0  POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAM  UK  L   LOVElt. 

And  I  h:ive  worn  it  gracefully, 
13ufc  gTief  nijiy  now  couimutod  bo 

Fur  soft  regret ! 

.■>ml  my  „.co,Ki  dear  .lep.rto.l-il  the.c  oouia  be  two  l,o. 

.-n--wa.  the  best  of  ,.ou  too ,     „„„  ,,,,  good  ,1:    hh 

«»^^«.K.  c„g„t  to  be  to  .tana  a  co^pa.i J:.,t.:  W 

(^in5'.s)--A  soft  regret !  a  soft  regret ! 


THE  LOVELY  XORTH  STAR.* 


TH.RKS  a  star  m  the  x\orth  that  can  guide 

lie  waudrer,  Avhore'er  he  may  roam  : 
In  the  waste  of  the  desert,  or  tide. 

That  star  tolls  the  path  to  his  homo 
Tho'  others  in  clusters  are  bright, 

Still  changeful,  as  radiant,  they' are 
But  faithful  as  truth,  thro'  the  night, ' 

Is  the  beam  of  the  lovely  North  Star. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVER. 


251 


There's  A  Laxd  that  presides  o'er  the  sea  ; 

"When  its  Peinxe  woukl  embark  on  Love's  tide, 
With  sailor-hke  prudence  tlieii  he 

Sought  the  star  that  in  safety  -would  guide. 
So  he  look'd  to  the  North,  and  he  found 

A  ray  answ'ring  bright  fi-om  afar  : — 
And  may  every  blessing  abound 

On  his  course  with  his  lovely  North  Star. 


O'EK  THE  WATEES  SOFTLY  STEALING. 

BARCAROLLE. 


O'er  the  waters  softly  stealing, 

In  their  bark  they  glide  along  ; 
Their  chant  their  course  revealing- 
Hark !  the  Gondolier's  song  : 
"  A-pre-mi ! 
Ses-ta-li .""" 


r 


;  k 


The  moon  is  on  the  waters  ; 

On  the  prow,  the  Gondolier, 
"With  songs  to  Beauty's  daughters. 

Wins  the  willing  ear  : 
"  A-jJ re-mi ! 

OCS-lu-ll  ' 

*  The  warning  cry  and  answer  of  the  Venetian  gondoliers  when  npproacliing 
each  other. 


^2.12 


roKTlVAL    noUKS  OF  SAMUKL    K^VKli. 


O,   3I0LLY,   I  CAXT  SAY  YOUT.E  KOXEST. 


O,  MoLLv,  I  cau't  say  you're  lioue.sf, 

You've  stolen  my  Leuft  iVom  my  breast  ; 
I  fVel  ]xk.'.  a  h\n\  that'.s  astouisli'd 

Wiuai  young  vagalMma  rob  its  iitst. 
My  brighrcHt  of  Nunshino  at  night  is, 

Tis  just  bctneoa  ini.lnight  and  da'.vu  ; 
I'oftinn.,  Moiiy  a,-r,  inyddightis 
To  i-ing  YOU  my  little  ironaicn  — 
Wcira  s/Jiru  I 
PhiUihnc  ! 
y>y\t  I'm  kilt— 
r\fay  tli(!  (jtjilt 
Lie  light  Oil  your  beautiful  foi'iu 
AVlicii  the  wt'atlier  in  hot, 
iJnt,  liiy  love,  when  'lis  not, 
May  }t  rowl  you  ^^  ^,,,y^,y  .^,,,|  ^^..^,,_,^^  j 

Xow,  if  you  arc  .sleopin,'  dvar  },ro!Jv, 

O,  doji't  let  me  waken  you,  d,;.ir 
Some  tindhor  memorial  I'll  lav,,  vo.,, 

To  just  \vX  y,)u  know  I  was  hi'r(>. 
Ho  I'll  tJirow  a  big  stone  at  the  u-iiuh/, 
^    And  if  any  glass  I  should  brak(>, 
'TiL<  for  love  all  the  pane^  I  am  takin'— 
What  wouldn't  I  smash  for  your  sake  ? 
Wei  10  sthru  ! 
Phi/a/t'u- !  dr.,  d-c. 


POETICAL  \Viii;hs  i)F  s.\.\n;i:i.  i.ovku. 


2511 


ST. 


I  know  that  youv  f.ithcr  is  stiiii^y, 

And  likewise  your  inoiber  Ua;  samo  ; 
"lis  \(ivs'  .small  ciiaii^i,'  (Jiat  y:)u'll  briiij^-  me 

Esceptiu'  tlio  cJiai)^!!  o  yoiii'  namo  : — 
So  bo  quick  \<\{\\  t:!-  ch  i-ii,;:',  d  ;an;at  JEully, 

]3e  the  .saDit!  indrc  or  less  as  it,  mav. 
And  my  ov.u  na.-uo,  my  darliii',  ["il  give  you, 

The  miniiit  that  you  nauie  tiic  day  ! 
Wv.lra  dhru  ! 
I'hiUHeic!  (C-c,  dv. 


Tt  o  \y,  F I  s  H  ]<:  11  :,i  a  n,  ii  o  vi . 


\ 


Row,  row,  lishcrmaii   I'ow, 
The  tide  is  high,  the  wind  is  lo?/. 
And  the  moon  is  full  to  grace  tlie  nigbfc, 
And  the  herring  lie  loves  the  silver  light  ; 
Good  luck  to  your  fishing 
The  fond  wife  is  wishing, 

^Vlierever  you  roam  ; 
While  you  rock  on  the  deep, 
Tlie  baby's  asleep, 

And  the  cradle  is  rocking  at  home. 
Hush-o !  hush-o ! 

Throw,  tlirow,  lisherman,  throw 
Your  nets  t(j  tne  swarming  deep  below, 
Heave-o  !  licavc-o  !  the  lead  and  iioat — 
^ound  be  your  not,  and  safe  your  boat ! 
Good  luck  to  your  ilsliiiig,  ^i:c.,  ttc. 


254 


POETICAL   WUUKS  OF  iiAMUKl.  LOVEIi. 


ih: 


MARY  O'MARA. 


Mary  O'M  vra,  I  thiuk  that  I  see  thee. 


Still  blooi 


and 


3miiig  and  youu[,. 
Crown'd  with  a  beauty  as  dazzlingly  beaming 
As  poet  e'er  sung  ; 

Lovers  deep-sigli ing, 
All  emulous  vying, 

Thy  love  to  secure  ; 
Vriiile  'twas  mine  to  adore, 
And  my  lo!  to  deplore — 
For  thy  minstrel  was  poor, 

I\lai-y  O'Mara. 

Mary  O'Ma.  .s,  Uic  loidly  O'llara, 

Might  mi.ke  chee  his  own, 
For  his  lineage  was  high,  while  the  light  of  thine  eye 
Might  have  challeng'd  a  throne  ! 
If  his  love  rise 
To  the  worth  of  the  prize, 

He  hath  captur'd  in  thee, 
Then  a  homage  is  thine 
That  a  saint  in  her  shrine 
Scarcely  deeper  may  see, 

:Mary  O'Mara ! 

Mary  O'Mara,  I  think  that  I  hear  thee, 

With  voice  like  a  bell, 
So  silver-sweet  ringing,  the  minstrelsy  singing 

Of  him  who  lov'd  well  ; 


i  i' 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

Of  hiiii  \vlio,  still  loving, 
And  hopelessly  roving 

In  regions  nfar, 
Still  thinks  of  the  time 
That  he  wove  the  sweet  rhyme 

To  his  heart's  brightest  star — 
Mary  O'Mara. 


orrr 


BONNY  BELLE. 


No,  no,  never  leave  thee  ! 

Trust  not  those  who  tell ; — - 
No,  no,  never  grieve  thee  ! 

Mine  !  my  Bonny  Belle  ! 
I'm  true  blue,  like  that  bright  eyo  : 
False  to  that  ? — 'twere  vain  to  try  ; 
Who  that  sees  it  e'er  could  fly  ? 
None,  I  think — but  nurc,  not  I, 

No,  no,  never  leave,  &o. 

As  the  heaving  ocean 

Owns  the  moon's  bright  spell, 
So  my  heart's  devotion 

Thine,  my  Bonny  Belle  ! 
And  tho'  -ocean's  ebb  and  flow 
Vary  with  tho  winds  that  blow, 
My  true  heart  no  change  shall  know,-- 
All  to  thee  its  currrents  flow  ! 

No,  no,  never  leave,  &c. 


250 


I'OETWAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUKt.   I.oVKIi. 


'.;[ 


I  WILL  NOT  SAY  I'D  GIVE  THE  WOia. 

"■  IjiiA.  not  say  I'd  ^.ivo  the  v.-orld 

To  M-iu  tlie;^e  charms  divine  ; 
I  will  not  «ny  I'd  give  the  world- 

The  world  it  is  not  mine. 
The  vow  viiai's  made  thy  love  to  win 

III  sim])le  truth  shall  be  ; 
My  lieart  is  all  I  have  to  give, 
.       And  give  that  all  to  thee."  ' 

But  while  I  laielt  at  beauty's  shrine, 

And  love's  devotion  i^aid, 
I  felt  'twas  but  an  empty  vow 

That  passion's  pilgrim"  made  ; 
For  while,  in  raptur'd  gazing  lost, 

To  g,isG  my  heart  I  swore, 
One  glance  from  her  soon  made  nie  feel 
My  heart  was  mine  no  more. 


D. 


HIDDEN  EIRE. 

Yox  hill  ,vhere  sleeps  the  trackless  snow 
Above  the  inward  tiros  that  glow 
Is  lik-e  the  love  we  dare  not  show- 
Alas,  such  Me.  is  mine  ! 


J'OKTH'M.    WOJiKS    tJF  SAMl'hh    l.tJVKli. 


257 


A  liidden  flame  williiu  my  brcasf, 
Deprives  my  hopeless  heart  of  rest, 
I  know  my  love  c^iu  ne'er  be  blest, 
In  silenc6"I  must  pine. 

The  v.'iive  upon  some  lonely  shore, 
That  breaks  unheard,  and  is  no  more, 
yueh  fate  may  secret  love  deplore, 

Such  fate,  my  heart,  is  thine  ; 
Or,  like  the  deem  of  pilgrim  gray 
"Who  toils,  in  vain,  his  vows  to  pay, 
Exhausted  falls  beside  the  way. 

And  never  gains  the  shrine. 


THE   ROSE  AND  THE  VOW. 


Br^;ho  castlo  in  the  valley 

There  flows  a  bright  stream, 
By  the  castle  in  the  valley 
I  dreamt  a  bright  dream. 
The  dream  was  as  bright  as  that  sti-eam's  silver  spray, 
But,  alas,  like  the  stream,  it  sooJi  glided  away. 

By  the  castle  in  the  valley 

The  wild  rose  was  wreath'd. 
By  the  castle  in  the  valley 
The  wild  Yov/  was  brcaili'd. 
The  rose  I  have  kept  that  w«s  smvtch'd  from  the  bough, 
Tho'  wither'd,  tis  mine  : — 'twas  less  frail  than  the  vow. 


I 


258 


FOKTICAL   WOIIKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVER. 


By  tlio  castio  in  tlie  valley 

"What  sweet  soii'/s  were  suiif'. 
While,  the  soft  strain.s  prolongiii<^, 
The  fond  oehoos  run". 
The  rock  still  as  fondly  replies  to  the  strain  :— 
Oh  !  harder  the  heart  that  responds  not  again  1 


m 


THE  FAIRY  ISLE. 


O,  WAIT  me  back  to  that  fairy  isle 

Where  the  skies  are  ever  blue, 
Where  faithful  ever  is  friendship's  smile, 

And  hearts  are  ne'er  untrue  ; 
Where  thoughts  are  fresh  and  bright  and  pure 

As  flowers  in  early  spring, 
Where  vows  for  ever  will  endure, 

And  time  no  change  cm  bring ! 

O  whore  is  that  sunny  isle  so  blest, 

And  where  is  that  fairy  sea? 
O,  wh.)  would  not  wish  in  that  isle  to  rest, 

And  who  would  not  sail  with  me ! 
But  I  may  seek  that  isle  no  more, 

Alas  I  have  lost  the  way  :  — 
When  youth  is  o'er,  in  vii    i  that  shore 

Is  soug    !  by  K  pilot  gi    y  ! 
Yet  still  I  dream  of  that  fairy  isle 

Where  ihc-  j-l.ies  are  ever  blue, 
And  faithful  over  is  friendship's  smile, 

And  hearts  are  ne'er  iintnfp. 


POETICAL  WOIih'S  OF  SAMUEL  LOVKll. 


259 


OH!  LOVEL       KYES. 

TO  • 


Oh  1  lovely  eyes,  whoso  gentle  rrtdianco,  glowing 

With  fipeechloss  meaning,  beavtth  more  to  mo 
On  the  pure  stream  from  out  the  soial-spring  llowing, 

Tlian  language  breath'd  by  voiee  of  melody  : 
For  words  are  cold  to  tell  the  full  heart's  meaning, 

To  sound  the  deep  where  Love  in  secret  lies— 
lu  guarded  words  there  may  be  timid  feigning, 

But  no  deceit  cun  lurk  in  those  sweet  eyes ! 

Oh  !  lovely  eyes,  where  truth,  with  lustre  blending. 

Shines— like  the  north  star  o'er  the  wintry  sea, 
Some  lonely  bark  in  mi.    aght  course  befrier.ding— 

Oh,  lovely  eves,  beam  gently  thus  on  me. 
How  blest  my' course  with  such  bright  eyes  to  guide  me, 

Who'd  ask  for  words  when  Love's  own  light  replies  ? 
Were  Love  not  there,  your  glances  had  denied  mo, 

For  no  deceit  can  lurk  in  those  sweet  eyes ! 


SLEEP  MY  BABE,  SLEEP. 


Sleep  my  babe,  sleep,  while  my  tears  wet  thy  pillow, 
Sleep  without  rocking  this  night  with  me, 

To-morrow  we'll  rock  on  the  deep-rolling  b       w. 
The  wind  for  thy  lullaby  then  shall  be  ; 


200 


roF.TKM.    HO!;hS  OF  S.AMUI'J.   l.OVKli. 


\ 


But  wLcn  iicroas  tlio  wide  wave,  yomlcr, 
In  freedom  thro'  (lislr.ut  Luicls  wo  wiuidLr, 
Tliis  lic'iu  i,  Willi  a  holier  leeliii;^',  and  fonder 
Will  tiiri),  doiirt'st  Erin,  buck  to  lliee. 

To  the  hind  of  the  stningor,  my  boy,  wo  ar.-  yoin", 
AVhero  flowers  and  birds  and  their  son^^'s  are  now  ; 

We'll  miss  in  the  .sprinj,'  our  own  wild  llowirs  -rowia-', 
And  listen,  in  vain,  for  the  sweet  euckoo  : 

But,  in  our  dr«  ■  in.s,  still  sweetly  ringin«,^ 

We'll  fancy  we  iiear  the  spring-binl  .singin:,'. 

And  gather  the  ilow'rs  in  our  own  valley  sprinoing— 
And  weep,  when  wo  wako,  tliat  the  dream  is  untrue 


THE   HOUR  I  PASS  WITH  THEE. 


TnK  hour  I  pass  with  thee,  my  love. 
Doth  yield  this  heart  the  most  delight, 
Oh  !  what  on  eartli  i ;  half  so  blight 
As  Lours  I  pass  with  thee  ? 
And  as  tho  breeze,  that  fans  the  grove, 
Is  perfumed  by  the  fragrant  flowers. 
So  time  can  sweetness  steal  from  hours 
I  pass,  my  love,  with  theo  ! 

Wlien  Mem'ry  o'er  the  distant  past 
Pursues  her  course,  with  weary  wing 
The  only  joys  she  back  can  bring 

Arc  h(,'!irs  I've  passoil  with  thee  ! 


roy.THJAJ-  WORKS  OF  S.\MUi:r.    I.nVKH. 

Ami  when,  through  futuro  time,  a^  last 
Toiul  fiincy  stcurs,  with  liopoful  pow'r, 
Hor  loailiiii,'  sttiv  in  still  tho  hour 
I've  yet  to  paas  with  thee  ! 


m 


LIVE  IN  MY  HEART  AND  PAY  NO  BENT.* 


Vvio-ncen,  when  your  tlavH  were  bri<^ht, 

Never  an  eye  diil  I  dare  to  Uft  to  you, 
But,  now,  in  your  fortune's  blight, 

Eals«;  oD.s'iive  Hying,  in  sunshine  that  knew  you. 
But  still  on  one  welcome  true  rely, 
Tho'  the  crops  niiiy  fall,  and  tho  cow  ^'o  dry, 
And  the  cabin  be  burn'd— and  all  be  spent, 
Come  live  in  my  heart  and  pay  no  rent ! 

Live  in  my  heart  Ma  Vonnurn  ! 

Vourncni,  dry  up  those  tears  ;— 

The  sensible  people  will  tell  you  to  wait,  dear  ; 
But  ah,  in  tho  wasting  of  love's  young  years, 

On  our  innocent  hearts  we're  commiting  a  cheat,  dear  :— 
For  hearts,  when  they're  young,  should  pledge  the  vow, 
For  when  they  grow  old  sure  they  don't  know  how. 
So,  marry  at  once— and  you'll  ne'er  repent,  f . 
AYhen  you  live  in  my  heart  and  pay  no  rent. 

Come!  live  in  my  heart  j^Fh  I'mrncen. 

•  One  of  many  an'ectionate  Irish  siiyiti^s.  .    .     ,  ,  ,  .♦ 

t  An  aUusiou  to  auuthcr  old  Iri.h  .ayin,,  "Marry  in  husic.  and  repent  rt 

ciiuro." 


262 


rOETIVAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER, 


THE    MAY-DEW. 


To  t'nthcr  tlio  (lew  from  thf  flowrrs  on  Mny-morning,  before  the  suh  Obf  rlMSta    .»  r*.cl£. 
Itlfld  a  bond  of  peculiar  {wwcr  between  lovers. 


Co.ME  with  mo,  love,  I'm  scckiiiir 

A  spell  in  the  young  year's  flowers  j 
The  magical  May-dew  is  weeping 

Its  charm  o'er  tlic  summer  how'rs  ; 
Its  pearls  are  more  precious  than  those  they  finfl 

In  jcwell'd  India's  sea  ; 
For  the  dew-drops,  love,  might  servo  to  bind 
Thy  heart,  for  ever,  to  me  ! 

Oh  come  with  me,  love,  I'm  seeking 

A  spoil  in  (ho  young  year's  flowers; 
The  magical  May-dew  is  weeping 
Its  charm  o'er  the  summer  bow'rs. 

Haste,  or  the  spell  will  be  missing, 
We  seek  in  the  May-dew  now  ; 
For  soon  the  warm  sun  will  bo  kissin" 

The  bright  drops  from  blossom  and  bough  : 
And  the  charm  is  so  tender  the  May-dew  sheds 

O'er  the  wild  flowers'  delicate  dyes, 
That  e'en  at  the  touch  of  the  sunbeam,  'tis  said, 
The  mystical  influence  flics. 

Oh  come  with  mo,  love.  I'm  seekinn- 

A  spell  in  the  young  year's  flowers; 
The  magical  May-dew  is  w-eepinij 
It'.J  charm  o'er  the  summer  bow'ra. 


t 
rncd 
deal 


POETICAL   WOBKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


203 


>     .«  ffCt- 


THE    RING   AND   THE    WINDING-SHEET. 


I. 

WiiT  sought  you  not  the  silent  bower, 

The  bower,  nor  hawthorn  tree  ; 
Why  came  you  not  at  evening  liour, 

V/hy  came  you  not  to  me  ? 
Say,  does  thy  heart  beat  colder  now, 

Oh  !  tell  me,  truly  tell. 
Than  when  you  kiss'd  my  burning  brow, 

When  last  you  said  "  Farewell  ?" 

II. 

As  late  my  taper  I  illumed. 

To  sigh  and  watch  for  thee, 
It  soon  the  mystic  form*  assumed 

Which  lovers  smile  to  see  ; 
But  fondly  while  I  gazed  upon 

And  trimm'd  the  flame  with  care, 
The  pledge  of  plighted  love  was  gone, 

The  sign  of  deathf  was  there ! 

•  A  small  exfoliation  of  wax  from  the  candle,  called,  by  the  giipcrstitiouu, 
'*  a  ring,"  and  considered  indicative  of  marrLacjc. 

t  When  this  wrxen  symbol,  instead  of  being  circular,  becomes  length- 
ened and  pendulous,  U  is  then  called  -  a  winding-sheet,"  and  forebodes 
death. 


I 


2C1 


POETICAL    WOllKS  OF  SAMUKL   l.OVEH. 


m 


III. 

Oh  say,  was  tlii.^  iuivboJiiig  ti'ulli  ? 

An;l  wilt  thoti  l)reuk  t!iy  vow  ? 
And  wilt  ttiou  h\\'\\\.  mv  np'aiuf  vouih? 

And  must  I — :iiijst  I  now 
Moot  JoallTs  oinbi'iico  (I)i-  tliut  c;ll;^^^lt■  i;is9, 

Tliat  lii-'ly  l\i.->.s  you  vow'd  ' 
And  must  1,  lor  my  bridal  dross, 

D'.'  maiitb'd  ill  ih::  shroud! 


THE    TRVWriNG    T11!:E. 


Now  iho  urldon  s;m  has  s-f, 

And.  I  am     t  ihi'  Irysliiijj;  trco, 
Di'Ui"(  St,  Villi  will  not  fi)rg;,'t 

Thai  here  I  I  moot  yon  pnmiisod  me. 
No\v  is  o\''ry  dnwcr  (dosing, 

r'allii!;f  is  tho  :'v'ninir  dow, 
Birds  arc  v.  ith  their  matos  reposing  ; 

VVfiorc   ■    '   tr".^  Fiovo,  whore  are  von? 


Darknoss  is  aronnd  doscondinir : 
.Sfc  the  lovoly  cv'ning  star, 

Like  ia*it  ptig'""?  attending 

On  tho  yiiimir  ru'X):i'i«  silver  car! 

Wfeth?  toifctlior  thus  ilioy  wanih'r 


S<>  I'll  oari 
I) 


:,;  ■ij.iriicr  si-y  ; 
:  i'jht,  hut  (i);id  'r, 
\  "II  and   I. 


POETIVAL   WORKS  oF  SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


265 


THE   ANGEL'S   WHISPER. 


A  superstition  of  great  beauty  prevnils  In  Ireland,  thit,  when  a  child  sniLCi  in  lt>  ilMPt 
It  Is  "  talking  with  nngeh." 


A  BABV  was  sleeping, 

Its  motlier  was  weeping, 
For  her  husband  was  far  on  the  wild  raging  sea  ; 

And  the  tempest  was  swelling 

Round  the  fisherman's  dwelling, 
And  she  cried,  "Dermot  darling,  oh  come  back  to  me  !" 

Her  beads  while  sho  nuniber'd, 

The  baby  still  slumber'd. 
And  smiled  in  her  face  as  she  bended  her  knee  ; 
"  O  blest  be  that  warning. 

My  child,  thy  sleep  adorning, 
For  I  know  that  the  angels  are  whispering  with  thee.*" 


"  And  while  thoy  arc  keeping 
Bright  watch  o'er  thy  sleeping, 

Oh,  pray  to  them  softly,  my  baby,  with  me ! 
And  say  thou  wouldst  ratner 
They'd  watch  o'er  thy  lather ! 

For  I  know  that  the  angels  are  whispering  with  thee." 


SB 


266 


POETICAL   W0HK8  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


Tlie  dawn  of  llio  morning 

Saw  Deniiol  roliirning, 
And  the  wife  wept  wiili  joy  her  babe's  father  to  see ; 

And  closely  caressing 

Her  ciiild,  with  a  blessing, 
Said,  "i  knew  tliat  the  uii^;;  io  were  whispering  with  thee.' 


DIVIDED    LOVE. 


is 


is 


When  Love  o'er  the  warm  heart  is  stealing 

His  myslio,  his  magical  chain, 
How  wild  is  the  transport  of  feeling, 

We  scarce  can  call  pleasure  or  pain ! 
Till  'midst  the  bright  joys  that  surround  us, 

Our  bondage  we  tremble  to  see  ; — 
But  so  closw'ly  his  fetters  have  bound  us, 

We  struggle  in  vain  to  be  free  ! 


As  vain  is  tiie  hope  of  retreating 

From  peril  that  lurks  in  tiie  eyes, 
When  glances  too  frequent  are  meeting, 

And  sighs  are  re-echoed  by  sighs  ; 
When  thus,  with  two  hearts  that  are  tender, 

The  folly  so  equal  hath  been, 
'Tis  meet  that  they  loth  should  surrtMider, 

And  share  the  soft  bondage  between. 


POETICAL   lIOi.'A'.S-  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEli. 


2G7 


THE    FAIRY    TEMPTER. 


They  siiy  Mortals  Imve  sotnolimcs  boon  carried  awuy  to  I'.ilry-latnl. 


A  FAIR  girl  was  sitting  in  the  green-wood  sliado, 
List'ning  to  the  music  the  spring  birds  made, 
When,  sweeter  by  fur  tiiaii  tlie  birds  on  the  tree, 
A  voice  murmur'd  near  her,  "  Oh  conio,  love,  with  me. 
In  earth  or  air, 
A  thing  so  fair 
I  have  not  scon  as  thee ! 
Tlien  come,  love,  with  nic." 


"  With  a  Star  for  thy  home,  in  a  palace  of  light, 
Thou  wilt  add  a  fresh  grace  to  the  beauty  of  night ; 
Or,  if  wealtli  be  thy  wish,  thine  are  treasures  untold,— 
I  will  show  thee  the  birthplace  of  jewels  and  gold. 
And  pearly  caves, 
Beneath  the  waves. 
All  these,  all  these  arc  tlune, 
If  thou  wilt  be  mine." 

Thus  whisper'd  a  Fairy  to  tempt  tne  fair  girl, 
But  vain  was  his  promise  of  gold  and  of  pearl ; 
For  she  said,  "  Tho'  thy  gifts  to  a  poor  girl  were  dear, 
My  Father,  my  Mother,  my  Sisters  are  here. 
Oh !  what  would  be 
Thy  gifts  to  me 
Of  Earth,  and  Sea,  and  Air, 
If  n)y  heart  were  not  there  ?'' 


!■• 

1 

' 

' 

2G8 


POETICAL    WOJiKS  OF  f< A  MULL  LOVEU. 


THE   NEW  MOON. 


UTien  our  attention  is  directed  to  ilie  Now  Moon  by  one  of  the  opposite  sex,  It  is  const 
deird  lucky. 


Oil,  (loii't  you  romcmber  the  lucky  new  moon, 

Whicli  I  show'd  you  as  soon  as  it  pocp'tl  forth  at  eve? 

Wlien  I  spoke  of  omens,  and  you  spoke  of  love, 

And  in  both,  tlio  fond  heart  will  for  ever  believe  ! 

And  while  yoii  whisper'd  soul-melting  words  in  my  ear, 

I  trembled — for  love  is  related  to  fear; 

And  before  that  same  moon  hud  declined  in  "ils  wane, 

I  held  you  my  own,  in  a  mystical  chain  ; 

Oh,  bright  was  the  omen,  for  love  follow'd  soon, 

And  I  bless'd  as  I  gazed  on  the  lovely  new  Moon. 

And  don't  you  rerneml)er  those  two  trembling  stars  ? 
That  rose  up,  like  gems,  from  the  deptiis  of  the  sea! 
Or  like  two  young  lovers,  who  stole  forth  at  eve 
To  meet  one  another,  lii<e  you,  love,  and  me. 
And  we  thouglit  them  a  type  of  our  meeting  on  earth, 
Which  show'd  that  our  love  had  in  iieaven  its  birth. 
The  Moon's  waning  crescent  soon  faded  away, 
But  the  love  she  gave  birtli  to,  will  never  decay! 
Oh,  bright  was  the  omen,  for  love  follow'd  soon, 
Atid  I  bless  when  I  gaze  on  the  lovely  new  Moon. 


JPULTICAL    ]\/)I!KS  OF  SAMUEL   hOVEU. 


2G9 


THE  FOUR-LEAVED  SHAMROCK. 


s  cand 


K  'onr-leaved  Shamrock  is  of  such  rarity  that  It  is  supposed  to  cnduo  the  fiiidi-r  with 
magic  power. 


I'll  seek  a  four-leaved  shamrock  in  all  the  fiiiry  dells, 
And  if  I  find  the  charmed  leaves,  oh,  liow  I'll  weave  my  spells! 
[  would  not  waste  my  magic  migiit  on  diamond,  pearl,  or  gold, 
For  treasure  tires  the  weary  sense, — such  triumph  is  but  cold; 
But  I  would  play  tii'  enchanter's  part,  in  casting  bliss  around, — 
Oh !  not  a  tear,  nor  aching  heart,  should  in  the  world  be  found. 

To  worth  1  would  give  honor  ! — I'd  dry  the  mourner's  tears. 

And  to  the  pallid  lip  recall  the  smile  of  happier  years, 

And  hearts  that  had  been  long  estranged,  and  friends  that  had 

grown  c^'l, 
Siiould  meet  a^^  \in  --like  parted  streams — and  mingle  as  of  old  ! 
Oh  !  thus  I'd  pla)'  ih'  cnclianter's  part,  thus  scatter  bliss  around, 
And  not  a  tear,  nor  aching  heart,  should  in  the  world  bo  found ! 


The  heart  that  had  been  mourning  o'er  vmishod  dreams  of  love, 
Should  see  them  all  returning, — llio  Noah's  faithful  dove. 
And  Mope  should  launch  her  blessed  barkon  Sorrow's  dark'ning  sea, 
And  Mis'ry's  children  have  an  Ark,  and  saved  from  sinking  be; 
Oh  !  thus  I'd  play  th'  enchanter's  part,  thus  scatter  bliss  around, 
And  not  a  tear,  nor  aching  heart,  should  in  the  world  be  found! 


I 


m 


270 


rojrricMj  wouks  of  samtj-j.  loveh. 


THE  CHARM. 


Thoy  say  ttiiit  a  flower  mny  bo  found  In  a  valley  opening  to  the  West,  which  bestowi 
on  the  finder  tlio  power  of  whuiliij;  llic  afTcction  of  t!io  i)rrs()ii  to  whom  it  is  prcsentedi 
Htncr,  it  is  snjiposcil,  has  origiiiati'd  llio  ciistoin  of  presenting  a  liuiiquet. 


Tiip:y  say  tlicrc's  a  socrot  charm  which  lies 

In  some  wild  flow'ret's  bell, 
That  grows  in  a  vale  whore  the  West  wind  sighs, 

And  where  secrets  best  might  dwell ; 
And  (hey  who  can  find  the  fairy  flower, 

A  treasure  possess  that  nn'ght  grace  a  throne, 
For  oh  !  tlicy  can  rule  with  the  softest  power, 

The  heart  they  would  make  their  own. 


The  Indian  has  toil'd  in  the  dusky  mine 

For  tl.o  iicM  that  has  made  him  a  slavu  ; 
Or,  plucking  the  pearl  from  the  sea-god's  shrine, 

Has  temi'-tcd  the  wrath  of  the  wave; 
But  ne'er  has  lie  sought,  with  a  love  like  mine, 

The  ll(;Wi!-  ilir.t  liulus  the  hcait  in  thrall  ; 
Oh  !  rather  I'd  win  that  charm  divine, 

Than  their  !;old  and  their  pearl  and  all  ! 


POETICAL    WOliKS  OF  HAM  I  EL  LOVEli. 


271 


I've  sought  it  by  day,  from  iTiorn  till  eve, 

I've  won  it— in  dreams  at  night ; 
And  then  how  I  grieve,  my  couch  to  leave, 

And  sigh  at  the  morning's  light. 
Yet  sometimes  1  think,  in  a  hopeful  hour. 

The  hlissful  moment  I  yet  may  sec. 
To  win  the  fi  '  flower  from  the  fairy's  bower, 

And  give  it,  iovc — to  thee. 


»»»■ 


1   b88tOW< 

presented! 


MEMORY    AND   HOPE. 


Oft  have  I  mark'd,  as  o'er  the  sea 

We've  swept  before  the  wind. 
That  those  whose  hearts  were  on  the  shore 

Cast  longing  looks  behind  ; 
While  they,  whose  hopes  have  elsewhere  been, 

Have  watch'd  with  anxious  eyes, 
To  see  tlie  hills  that  lay  before, 

Faint  o'er  the  waters  rise. 

'Tis  thus,  as  o'er  the  sea  of  life 

Our  onward  course  we  track, 
That  anxious  sadness  looks  boibrc, 

The  happy  still  look  back  ; 
Still  smiling  on  the  course  they've  pass'd, 

As  earnest  of  liie  rest, — 
'Tis  Hope's  the  charm  of  wretchedness, 

While  Moni'rv  wooes  tlio  blest. 


I 


272 


I'OAl'K^AL   WOJih.S     >F  SAMUKL  LUVKU. 


THE    FALLING,    STAR, 


IIU  hellevrd  that  n  wKU  cxprt'ssod  while  we  see  ii  Sinr  fulling  Is  uimioJ. 


I  SAW  n  star  that  was  falling, 

I  wishM  ill-  wi.il)  of  my  soul, 
■My  lienrt  on  in  iiiflnonco  calling 

To  shed  all  lis  ociitlo  control. 
Hope  wlii.s|KM'ii  niy  uisii  woiild  ho  granted, 

And  r'ancy  soon  w  av(;d  iier  hright  wand. 
My  heart  in  sweet  ecstasy  panted, 

At  the  visions  were  smiling  bejond. 
Oh  !  like  the  meteors, — sweeping, 

Thro'  darkness  their  luminous  waj, 
Are  the  pleasures  too  woriLless  for  keeping, 

As  dazzling,  hut  fleeting  as  they. 


le 


I  saw  a  star  that  was  heaminf;, 

^-■;,  u!y  and  stilly  and  hright, 
Uijvve:uicd  its  swef  t  watch  'twas  seeminrr 

To  keep  through  the  darkness  of  night : 
Like  tfiose  two  stars  in  the  heaven, 

Are  the  joys  that  arc  false  and  arc  true, 
I  felt  as  a  lesson  'twas  siven. 

And  thought,  my  own  true  Love,  of  you. 
When  I  saw  the  star  that  was  hearnin". 

Steady  and  siilly  and  bright, 
Unwearied  it-  sweet  watch  'twas  seeinintr 

To  keep  through  thi;  darkness  of  ni"ht. 


POJC^ICAL  WORKS  •)f  SAMVKL  LUVKU. 


273 


nd. 


THE    ;.ETTER, 


A  small  8p»rk,  attaclirtl  to  the  Wlrk  of  n  canillo.  Is  considered  lo  Indleilo  the  arrival  of» 
letUr  lo  the  ona  bclorc  whom  It  liiirns. 


Fare  thee  well,  Love,  now  thou  nn  goinf' 
Over  the  wild  and  traeklcss  .s( 

Smooth  be  its  waves,  and  fair  the  ! 

TI)o'  'tis  to  hear  thoe  far  from  ii 

But  when  on  the  waste  of  ocean, 

Some  happy  home-hound  bark  you  see, 


owuig 


r    oar  by  the  truth  of  thy  heart's  devotion, 
)  send  a  letter  back  to  me. 

Think  of  the  shore  thou'st  left  behind  thee, 

Even  when  reaching  a  brighter  strand  ; 
Let  not  the  golden  glories  blind  thee 

Of  that  gorgeous  Indian  land  ; 
Send  me  not  its  diamond  treasuirs, 

Nor  pearls  from  the  depth,  of  its  sunny  sea, 
But  tell  me  of  all  thy  wees  and  pleasures. 

In  a  long  letter  back  to  me. 

And  while  dwelling  in  lands  of  pleasure, 
Think,  as  you  bask  in  ''oir  bright  sunslii.ie, 

That  while  liie  ling'rin  luno  I  measure, 
Sad  and  wintry  hours  are  mine  ; 


I 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

lANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2i 


1.0 

1^    1  2.8           2.5 

m  IIIIM        2.2 

j:  iim 
It  m     2.0 

■.Liu 

I.I 

18 

1.25 

1.4 

1.6 

^     APPLIED  IfVMGE 


Sb'jJ   Losl   Main   Street 
f^orhester,   New   York        U609       USA 
"^     482  -  0300  -  Phorie 
.'88  -  5989  -  Fax 


271 


POETICAL    r,'OJtKS  OF  SAMVKL    I.OVER. 


Loiiuly  by  Miy  taper  \Vl;e.pin,L^ 

And  watchiiiL!:,  tlio  spiU'k  oi'  pn\)!iiise  [.>  soc>  ; 
All  for  tluit  bright  spark,  iny  night  watch  keeping, 

Fur  oil  !  'lis  a  letter,  Love,  from  thee  ; 
To  say  thai  soon  thy  sail  will  bo  (luvvirig. 

Homeward  to  bear  thee  over  the  sea ; 
Calm  be  the  waves  and  swift  tlie  wind  blowing, 

For  oh  !  thou  art  cominif  back  to  me  ! 


"-♦•♦- 


MY    DARK-IIAIll'D    GIRL. 


Mv  dark-hair*d  girl,  thy  ringlets  deck, 

In  silken  cnrl,  tiiy  graceful  neck  ; 

Thy  neck  is  like  the  swan,  and  fair  as  the  pearl, 

And  light  as  air  the  step  is  of  my  dark-hair'd  girl  ! 

My  dark-hair'd  girl,  upon  thy  lip, 

The  dainty  bee  might  wish  to  sip, 

For  thy  lip  it  is  the  rose,  and  tliy  teet!i  they  are  pearl, 

And  diamond  is  tiie  eye  of  my  dark-hair'd  girl ! 


My  dark-hair'd  girl,  I've  promised  thee, 

And  thou  thy  faith  hast  given  to  me. 

And  oh  !  I  would  not  change  for  the  crown  of  an  earl, 

Tile  prida  of  being  loved  by  my  dark-liair'd  girl  ! 


POETICAL   WOJlKii  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


275 


THE    FAIRY    BOY. 


'S. 


When  a  beautiful  chiUI  pines  and  dies,  tlie  Iri=h  pcas;int  believes  llio  healthy  Infant  hM 
oeon  stolen  by  the  fairies,  and  a  sickly  elf  left  in  its  place. 


A  MOTHER  came,  when  stars  were  paling, 

Wailing  round  a  lonely  spring, 
Thus  she  cried  while  tears  were  falling, 

Calling  on  tlie  Fairy  King  : 
"  WJiy,  with  spells  my  child  caressing, 

Courting  him  with  fairy  joy, 
Why  destroy  a  mother's  blessing, 

Wherefore  steal  my  baby  boy  ? 


rl! 


<•  O'er  the  mountain,  thro'  the  wild  wood, 

Where  ins  childhood  loved  to  play. 
Where  the  flow'rs  arc  freshly  springing, 

There  I  wander,  day  by  day  ; 
There  I  wander,  growing  fonder 

Of  the  child  that  made  my  joy, 
On  the  echoes  wildly  calling 

To  restore  mv  fairv  bov. 


pearl, 


n  carl, 
1! 


"  But  in  vain  my  plaintive  calling, 

Tears  are  falling  all  in  vain, 
He  now  sports  witli  fairy  pleasure. 

He's  the  treasure  of  their  train  ! 
Fare  thee  well !  my  child,  for  ever, 

In  this  world  Fvc  lost  my  joy. 
But  in  the  next  wo  ne'er  f-liall  sever, 

There  I'll  find  my  angel  boy." 


276 


I'D!,  fii  {!.   \\  iihk^  <iy  s.\Mri:i.  /."  vkr. 


THK    HAUNTED    SPRING. 


It  Is  »al(l,  Fays  Inve  llie  |M)wor  to  iissmno  various  sliiip!>s,  for  iJie  pnnMwc  of  liirlnR  iiior 
v\li  into  I'niry-lanil.  IIimtiTs  sirin  lo  Imvo  been  iiarliciilarly  llio  oliject'i  of  lliu  laily  fal 
rie.V  Oincirs. 


(jaily  through  the  mountain  glen 

The  hunter's  horn  did  ring, 
As  the  milk-white  doo 
Escaped  iiis  how, 

Down  hy  the  haunted  spring  ; 
In  vain  liis  silver  horn  ho  wound, — 

'Twas  echo  answer'd  hack  ; 
I'or  neither  crooni  nor  havinir  hound 

Were  on  the  hunter's  track  ; 
In  vain  he  sought  tlio  milk-white  doo 
That  made  iiim  stray,  and  'scoped  Ids  l)ow, 
Fur,  save  himself,  no  living  tiling 
\\i\H  hy  the  silent  haunted  sprin;,'. 

The  purple  healb-bells,  blooming  fiiir, 
T|)ci;"  iVagraneo  round  did  fling. 

As  the  hunter  lay, 

At  close  of  day, 
J)own  hv  the  hauntc»l  spring. 


POETICAL    WOllK^  "F  SA.\rri:i.    LOVEIi. 


Ill 


A  laciy  fair,  in  robe  of  white, 
To  'rrcL't  tlic  iiuiitcr  ciuiio  ; 
Slio  kissM  11  cup  Willi  jowfls  bright, 

And  pledged  liiiii  ijy  bis  luunc'  ; 
='  Oh  Lady  fair,"  tlio  iiuntor  cried, 
"  Be  thou  my  b:)ve,  my  blooming  bride, 
A  bride  that  well  might  grace  a  king  ! 
Fair  lady  of  the  haunted  spring." 


Iiirint;  iiior 
10  lady  I'al 


In  the  fountain  clear,  she  stoop'd, 

And  forth  she  drew  a  ring  ; 
And  that  bold  kr'ight 
His  faith  did  plight, 

Down  I)y  the  liauntcd  spring. 
But  since  tlie  day  his  chase  did  stray. 

The  hunter  ne'er  was  seen ; 
And  legends  tell,  he  now  doth  dwell 

Within  the  hills  so  green.* 
But  still  the  milk-white  doe  appears, 
And  wakes  the  peasant's  evening  fears, 
While  distant  bugles  faintly  ring 
Around  the  lonely  haunted  spring. 


•  FavH  and  fairipsave  puiipoi.il  to  have  their  dwelling-places  within  olu 
green  hilU. 


If  ft- 


IH 


278 


roirncAL  noiiKs  of  samvki.  jjjveti. 


THE   BLARNEY, 


irc  is  a  certain  coign-stone  on  liio  siirninit  of  lUarney  Castle,  In  the  county  of  Ccrh, 
ssing  of  whicii  is  siiid  to  iiiip:irt  llie  gift  of  porsuiision.  Ilcnce  the  phrase,  apjiliL'd 
id  wlio  make  a  llatturiiig  sjioni.li, — '•  you've  kissed  tlie  Ulurney  .Stone." 


On  !  did  you  uo'er  liear  of  "  the  Blarney" 
That's  found  near  the  bunks  of  Killarney  ? 

Believe  it  from  mo, 

No  girl's  heart  is  fifto, 
Once  she  hears  the  sweet  sound  of  the  Blarney. 
For  the  Blarney's  so  gi'eat  a  deceiver, 
That  a  girl  thinks  you're  there,  tl'.ouyh  you  leave  her  j 

And  never  linds  out 

All  the  tricks  you're  about, 
Till  she's  quite  gone  hei'self, — with  your  Blarney. 

Oh !  say,  would  you  find  this  same  "  Blarney?" 
There's  a  castle,  not  far  from  Killarney, 

On  the  top  of  its  wall — 

(But  take  c;ire  you  don't  fall), 
There's  a  stone  tliat  eotitains  all  this  Blarney. 
Like  a  magnet,  its  influence  such  is, 
That  attraction  it  gives  all  it  touches  ; 

If  you  kiss  it,  they  say, 

From  that  blessed  day 
You  may  kiss  whom  you  please  svith  your  Blarney 


POETUWl.   WOIIKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVKlt. 


279 


CAN'T   YOU   GUESS? 


ly  of  Corh, 


Can't  you  guess  why  your  friends  all  accuse  you 

Of  moping,  and  pleasing  the  less  ? 
And  why  nothing  in  life  can  amuse  you  ? 

Can't  you  guess?  can't  you  guess  ?  can't  you  guess'/ 
And  why  now  your  slumhers  are  broken, 

By  dreams  that  your  fancy  possess, 
In  wliicii  a  sweet  name  is  oft  spoken, 

Can't  you  guess  ? 


Can't  you  guess  why  you  always  are  singing 

The  songs  that  we  heard  the  last  spring  ? 
Do  you  tiiink  of  their  musical  ringing, 

Or  how  sweetly  the  Captain  can  sing  ? 
With  him  you  were  always  duetting, 

And  your  solos  were  singing  the  less  ; 
Now  which  is  the  best  for  coquetting  ? 

Can't  vou  cuess  ? 


'Tis  an  accident  scarce  worth  repeating, 

Yet  people,  you  know,  dear,  will  talk; 
But  'tis  strange  how  you  always  are  meeting 

With — some  one  you  know,  when  you  walk. 
You  are  fond  of  the  grove, — 'tis  so  shady, 

Besides  'tis  frequented  the  less : 
Is  a  tale,  there,  best  told  to  a  lady  ? — • 

But  if  you  won't  tell, — I  cari  guesa! 


280 


rOKTIVAL    WOUKS  f>F  SAM fh/.   l.nVKR. 


NKD    OF   THE   HILL. 


Many  loyemls  nro  extant  of  this  roin;\ntic  minstrel  freebooter,  whose  predatorj'  achle»» 
ments  sometimes  extended  to  the  hearts  of  the  gentle  se«. 


Dark  is  the  evening  and  silent  the  hour  : 
Wlio  is  the  minstrel  by  yonder  lone  tovv'r? 
His  harp  all  so  tenderly  touching  with  skill, 
Oh,  who  should  it  bo  but  Ned  of  the  Hill  ! 
Who,  sings  "  Lady  love,  come  to  me  now, 
Come  and  live  merrily  under  the  bough, 

And  I'll  pillow  thy  head. 

Where  the  fairies  tread. 
If  thou  wilt  but  wed  with  Ned  of  the  Hill!" 


Ned  of  the  Hill  has  no  castle  nor  hall, 

Nor  spearmen  nor  bowmen  to  come  at  his  call ; 

Rut  one  little  archer,  of  exquisite  skill. 

Has  shot  a  bright  shaft  for  Ned  of  the  Hill, 

Who  sings,  "  Lady  love,  come  to  mo  now, 

Come  and  live  merrily  under  the  bou"'!i, 

And  ril  pillow  thy  head. 

Where  the  fairies  tread, 
If  thou  wilt  but  wed  with  Ned  of  the  Hill." 


poirncAL  wouKs  of  sa.uckl  ldvki:. 

'Tis  liiiid  to  escape  from  tliat  fair  lady's  bower, 
For  higli  is  the  window,  and  guarded  the  tower, 
"  IJut  tliero's  always  a  %i}(tij  where  there  is  a  will,''* 
So  Ellen  is  off  with  Nod  ..f  tiie  Hill ! 
Who  sings,  "  Lady  love,  thou  art  mine  now  ! 
We  will  live  merrily  under  the  bouch. 

And  I'll  pillow  thy  head. 

Where  the  fairies  tread, 
For  Ellen  is  bride  to  Ned  of  the  Hill  !'* 


281 


TIIE    JSILENT    FAREWELL. 


In  silence  we  parted,  for  neither  could  speak  ; 
But  the  tremulous  lip  and  the  fast-fading  cheek 
To  both  were  betraying  what  neither  could  tell — 
How  deep  was  the  pang  of  that  silent  farewell. 

There  are  signs— uh  !  the  slightest,  that  love  understands, 
In  the  meeting  of  eyes— in  the  parting  of  hands; 
In  the  quick-breathing  sighs  that  of  deep  passion  tell — 
Oh  !  such  were  the  signs  of  our  silent  farewell ' 


There's  a  language  more  glowing,  love  teaches  the  tongue, 
Than  poet  e'er  dreamed,  or  than  minstrel  e'er  sun^  • 
But  oh  !  far  beyond  all  mch  language  could  tell, 
The  love  that  was  told  in  that  silent  farcwc.ll ! 


282 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE  CHILD  AND  THE  GOSSAMER, 


A  SUNBEAM  was  playing  thro'  flow'rs  that  hung 

Round  a  casement,  that  look'd  to  the  day, 
And  its  bright  touch  waken'd  a  cliild,  who  sung 

As  it  woke,  and  began  its  play  ; 
And  it  play'd  with  the  gossamer  beam  that  shed 

Its  fairy  brightness  around  its  head  : 
Oh  'twas  sweet  tr>  see  that  child  so  fair. 

At  play  with  the  dazzling  things  of  air. 


Oh  ne'er  was  a  lovelier  plaything  seen. 

To  childhood's  simplicity  given, 
It  seem'd  like  a  delicate  link  between 

The  creatures  of  earth  and  heaven  : 
But  the  sunbeam  was  cross'd  by  an  angry  cloud, 

And  the  gossamer  died  in  the  shadowy  shroud, 
And  the  cliiki  look'd  sad,  w  iion  the  bright  tilings  fled, 

And  its  smile  was  upwe — and  its  tears  were  shed. 

Oh  gentle  cnUd,  in  thy  infant  play. 

An  emblem  of  life  iiast  thou  seen  ; 
For  joys  are  like  sunbeams, — more  fleeting  than  they, 

And  sorrows  cast  sliadows  between  ; 
And  friends  tliat  in  moments  of  brightness  are  won, 

Like  gossamer,  only  are  seen — in  the  sun. 
Oh  !  many  a  lesson  of  sadness  may 

Be  learn'ds  from  a  joyous  child  at  play. 


rOF.TWAL    WORKS  OF  SAMUKL   LOVKU. 


283 


1 


THE    FOUNTAIN    AND    THE   FLOWER. 


If 


1, 

d, 

s  fled, 
lied. 


n  they, 


V'on, 


A  GENTLE  flow'r  of  ))allid  hue, 
Beside  u  sportive  fountain  grew, 
And  as  the  streamlot  murmur'd  by, 
Methought  the  llow'ret  seeni'd  to  sigh, 

"  Yes,  you  may  speed,  in  sparkling  track. 
Your  onward  course,  nor  e'er  conic  back, 
And  niurniur  still  your  flattering  song. 
To  ev'ry  flower  you  glide  along,"' 
And  Fancy  said,  in  tender  dream, 

*'  The  flow'r  is  Woman,  lAIan  the  stream." 

And  Fancy  still,  in  fev'rish  dream, 
Pursued  the  course  of  that  wild  stream, 
O'er  rocks  and  falls  all  heedless  cast, 
And  in  the  ocean  lost  at  last : 
"Glide  on,"  methought  the  flow'ret  cried, 
"  Bright  streamlet,  in  thy  sparkling  pride  ; 
And  when  thro'  deserts  far  you  roam. 
Perchance  you'll  sigi:  :'i  ■  early  home, 
And,  sorrowing,  think  of  that  pale  flow'r, 
You  hurried  by  at  morning  hour." 


284 


I'or.riCM.    \\()KKS   Oh'  SAMChl.    I.OVKli. 


LISTEN, 


How  sweet  'tis  to  listen  wlien  some  one  may  tell 
Ot'tlie  friend  tiiat  we  love  and  remember  so  well, 
While,  'midst  the  soft  pleasure,  wo  wonder  if  tlms 
The  friend  so  beloved  ever  thinks  upon  us; 
While  the  eye  with  the  dew  of  aircction  may  ;^disten, 
How  sweet  to  tiie  praise  of  the  loved  one  to  listen ! 

Sweet,  sweet  'tis  to  listen  !  . 

How  sweet  'tis  to  listen  when  soft  music  floats 
O'er  the  calm  lake  below,  in  some  favorite  notes, 
Whose  intervals  sweet  waken  slumberinflr  tiiouuht, 
And  we  listen — altho'  not  quite  sure  that  we  ought; 
While  the  soul-melting  moonlight  o'er  calm  waters  glisten, 
How  sweet,  but  how  fatal  it  may  be  to  listen  ! 

Sweet,  sweet  'tis  to  listen ! 


How  sweet  'tis  to  listen,  with  too  willing  ear, 
To  words  that  wo  wish  for  yet  tremble  to  hear. 
To  which  "  No'^  would  be  cruel,  and  "  Yes"  would  be  weak, 
And  an  answer  is  not  on  the  lip,  but  the  check ; 
While  in  eloquent  pauses  the  eyes  brightly  glisten, — 
Take  care  what  you  say,  and  take  care  how  you  listen. 
Take  care,  how  you  listen — take  care! 


POKTIVM.   WOUKS  tty  SA.yUKL   I.OVKU, 


28o 


1    THINK    OF    THEE. 


en, 
I 

en 


f 


3  glisten, 
listen ! 


d  be  weak, 


listen. 
!are ! 


I  LOVE  to  roam  at  ni"ht 

Ry  the  deep  sea, 
When  the  pale  nnoon  is  bright, 

And  think  of  thee: 
And  as  the  beacon's  lifrht 

( Jlt'iims  o'er  the  sea, 
Stioddinrr  its  guardian  light, 

I  think  of  tlioo. 

H  hen  o'er  some  flow'ry  ground 

Night  winds  breathe  ^i'cq, 
Wafting  fresh  fragrance  round, 

I  think  of  thee  ! 
Then,  if  some  trembling  star 

Boamin<r  I  sec, 
Brighter  tiian  others  ftir  !— 

1  think  of  thee. 

Though,  love,  by  fate  forbid 

Thou  art  to  me. 
Yet,  like  a  treasure  hid, 

I  think  of  thee  ; 
And  though  thy  plighted  kiss 

Mine  ne'er  can  be, 
Next  is  the  secret  bliss 

To  Oiink  of  thcc  ! 


280 


rOFAlCAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


YES   AND   NO. 


There  are  two  little  words  that  we  use, 

Without  thinking  from  whence  they  both  came, 
But  if  you  will  list  to  iny  muse, 

The  birth-place  of  each  I  will  name: 
Tlie  one  came  irom  Heaven,  to  bless, 

The  otiier  was  sent  from  below  : 
Whi;   a  sweet  little  angel  is  "  Yes  !" 

AVhat  a  demon-like  dwarf  is  that  "  No !" 


And  "  No"  has  a  friend  he  can  bid 

To  aid  all  his  doings  as  well. 
In  the  delicate  arch  it  lies  hid 

That  adorns  the  bright  eye  of  the  belle ; 
Beware  of  the  shadowy  Frown 

Which  darkens  her  bright  brow  of  snow, 
As,  bent  like  a  bow  to  strike  down, 

Her  lip  gives  you  death  with  a  "  No." 

But  '*  Y''es"  has  a  twin-sister  sprite, — 

'Tis  a  Smile  you  will  easily  guess, — 
That  sheds  a  more  lieavenly  light 

On  the  doings  of  dear  little  "  Yes  ;" 
Increasing  the  charm  of  the  lip 

That  is  coin"'  some  lover  to  bless, 
Oh  sweet  is  the  exquisite  smile 

That  dimples  and  plays  around  "  Yes." 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEB. 


287 


I    LEAVE    YOU    TO    GUESS.* 


There's  a  lad  that  I  know ;  and  I  know  that  lie 

Speaks  softly  to  me 

The  cushla-ma-ckree. 
He's  the  pride  of  my  heart,  and  he  loves  nie  well, 
But  who  the  lad  is,— I'm  not  going  to  tell. 


He's  as  straight  as  a  rush,  and  as  bright  as  the  stream 

That  around  it  doth  gleam, 

Oh !  of  him  how  I  dream  ; 
I'm  as  high  as  his  shoulder— the        •  that  I  know 
Is,  he  caught  me  one  day,  just  my  measure  to  show. 

He  whisper'd  a  question  one  day  in  my  ear ; 

When  he  breathed  it, — oh  dear ! 

How  I  trembled  with  fear  ! 
What  the  question  he  nsk'd  was,  I  need  not  confess, 
But  the  answer  I  gave  to  the  question  was — "  Yes." 


His  eyes  they  are  bright,  and  they  looked  so  kind 

When  I  was  inclined 

To  speak  my  mind. 
And  his  breath  is  so  sweet — oh,  the  rose's  is  less, 
And  how  I  found  it  out, — why,  I  leave  you  to  guess. 

•  From  the  novel  of  Rory  O'More. 


288 


rOETlLAL    KOJiK.S  OF  !>AMU1:L   LOVEU. 


T  II  E    ]-  A  XI)    O  V    T  II  E    W  E  ST.* 


1   ".!:'; 


On  !  come  to  the  West,  love — oli !  come  tliere  with  me  ; 
'Tis  a  sweet  liiiid  of  verdure  thtit  springs  from  the  sea, 
Where  fair  Plenty  smiles  from  her  emerald  throne  ; 
Oh,  come  to  the  West,  and  I'll  make  thee  my  own  ! 
I'll  guard  thee,  I'll  tend  thee,  I'll  love  thee  the  best, 
And  you'll  say  there's  no  land  like  the  land  of  the  West ! 

The  South  has  its  roses  and  bricjht  skies  of  blue. 
But  ours  are  more  sweet  with  love's  own  changeful  hue- 
Half  sunshine,  half  tears, — like  the  girl  I  love  best, 
Oh  !  what  is  the  South  to  the  beautiful  West ! 
Then  come  to  the  West,  and  the  rose  on  thy  inouth 
Will  be  sweeter  to  me  than  'lie  flow'rs  of  the  South  ! 

Tiie  North  has  its  snow-tow'rs  of  dazzling  array. 

All  sparkling  with  gems  in  the  ne'er-setting  day  ; 

There  the  Storm-King  may  dwell  in  the  halls  he  loves  best, 

But  the  soft-breathing  Zephyr  he  plays  in  the  West. 

Then  come  there  with  me,  where  no  cold  wind  doth  blow, 

And  thy  neck  will  seem  fairer  to  me  than  the  snow! 


The  Sun  in  the  gorgeous  East  chaseth  the  night 
When  he  risoth,  refreshed  in  his  glory  and  might. 
But  where  doth  he  <ro  when  he  seeks  his  sweet  rest  ? 
Oh  !  doth  lie  not  haste  to  the  beautiful  West  ? 
Then  come  there  with  me;  'tis  the  land  I  love  best, 
Tis  the  land  of  my  sires! — 'tis  my  own  darling  West! 

*  From  r-io  iit'vol  oi  Hoi  v  U'Mnre. 


J'oitica;.  noi,h>  of  .^.iMri.L  lovejl 


289 


nc 


OIJ,    SHE    IS    A    BRIGHT-EYED   THING! 


^est! 


ue  — 


!s  besl, 
)lo\v, 


It  I 


Oir,  she  is  a  bright-eyed  thing ! 
And  her  glances,  wildly  playing, 
While  they  radiance  round  her  fling, 
Set  my  loving  fancy  straying, 
Where  to  find  a  thing  so  bright  : 
'Tis  not  in  the  diamond's  light ; 
The  jewels  of  the  richest  mine 
Half  so  brilliantly  may  not  shine  :— 
For  gems  are  cold,  and  cannot  vie 
With  living  light  from  beauty's  eye  I 

Oh,  she  is  a  bright-Iip'd  thing! 
And  her  moutli,  like  budding  roses, 
Fragrance  all  around  doth  fling 
When  its  matchless  arch  uncbses ; 
With  a  voice,  whose  silver  tone 
Makes  the  raptured  listener  own 
It  may  be  true  that  poets  tell, 
That  nightingales  'mid  roses  dwell ; 
For  every  word  she  says  to  me 
Sounds  like  sweetest  melody  ? 


290 


POETICAL   WOJi!h\i  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


NATIVE    MUSIC. 


Oh,  native  music !  beyond  compai-iu" 
The  sweetest  far  on  the  ear  tliat  falls, 
Thy  gentle  numbers  the  heart  remembers, 
Thy  strains  enchain  us  in  tender  thrdls. 

Thy  tones  endearing, 

Or  sad  or  cheering. 
The  absent  soothe  on  a  ^oreiun  strand  : 

Oh  !  who  can  tell 

What  a  holy  spell 
Is  in  the  song  of  our  native  land  ? 


% 


The  proud  and  lowly,  the  pilgrim  holy. 
The  lover,  kneeling  at  beauty's  shrine, 
The  bard  who  dreams  by  the  haunted  streama,- 
All,  all  are  touch'd  by  thy  power  divine ! 

The  captive  cheerless. 

The  soldier  'earless  j 
The  mother, — taught  by  Nature's  hand, 

Her  child  when  weeping. 

Will  lull  to  sleephig. 
With  some  sweet  song  of  her  native  land  \ 


POETICAL    WOIiKS  OF  S. 


\MVKL  LOVJifi. 


201 


NEVER    DESPAIR, 


Oil  never  despair,  for  our  hopes  oftcntinio 
S|.nng  su-iftly  as  Pow'rs  in  some  tropical  clin.e, 
VV  here  the  spot  that  u-as  barren  and  scenrless  at  ni.ht 
Is  bloommg  and  fragrant  at  morning's  first  li.ht  ■    " 

The  mariner  marks  where  the  teu.pestsin.s  loud 
i  hat  the  rainbow  is  brighter  the  darker  the  cloud 
Then  up!  up!     Never  despair  I 

The  leaves  which  the  b>bil  presented  of  old, 
11.0'  lessen'd  in  number  were  not  worth  less  gold  ; 
And  tho'  Fate  steal  our  joys,  do  not  think  thev're  the  best, 
n.efe^v  she  has  spared  may  be  worth  all  the"  rest  : 
(^ood-fortune  oft  comes  in  Adversity's  form 
And  the  rainbow  is  brightest  when'darkest  the  stom., 
I  hen  up!  up!     Never  despair! 

And  when  all  creation  was  sunk  in  the  flood 
Sublime  o'er  the  deluge  the  Patriarch  stood  ' 
rho'  destruction  around  him  in  thunder  ^^as'hurrd 
Undaunted  he  looked  on  the  wreck  of  the  world  •     ' 
l^or  h,gh  o'er  the  ruin  hung  Hope's  blessed  forn,' 
^..e  rambow  beamed  bright  thro'  the  gloom  of  the  stor„., 
Then  up!  up!     Never  despair ! 


292 


POETICAL   WORKS  OK  SAMUEL  LOVEIU 


If 


THE    POOR    BLIND   BOY. 


A  MAID,  with  a  heart  that  could  feci, 

Met  a  poor  little  bpi^^jrar  one  clay, 
Who,  in  strains  full  of  woe,  did  appeal 

As  he  wander'd  alone  hy  tiie  way  ; 
A  ligiit  hazel  wand  in  his  hand. 

He  in  finding  his  way  did  employ, 
As  he  cried,  "  Oh  pity,  pity, 

Oh  pity  tlie  poor  blind  bov  ! 

With  a  tear  she  bestowed  him  relief, 

And,  sighing,  she  turned  to  depart; 
When  the  bny,  with  the  air  of  a  thief, 

Cried,  "Stand,  and  deliver — your  heart!" 
His  staff  was  soon  changed  to  a  bow, 

Which,  we  know,  is  a  dangerous  toy, 
In  tho  hands  of  a  certain  urchin. 

Who,  they  sny,  is  a  pour  blind  boy. 

This  beggar-boy,  bold  in  his  theft, 

Stole  her  heart  and  bewildered  her  head, 
And  the  maiden  in  anguish  he  left. 

For  his  rags  turned  to  wings — and  he  fled  : 
So,  ladies,  beware  of  all  youths 

Who  begging  pet'' 'ions  employ, 
f^nd  cry,  '•  Tity,  pity,  pity, 

Oh,  pity  y*)ur  poor  itlind  boy  !" 


POETICAL   WOJiKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVEU. 


203 


THE    LAND    OF    DREAMS.* 


TuKUK  Is  a  land  whore  Fancy's  twining 

Ilor  flowers  around  life's  faded  tree  ; 
Wliere  licrht  is  ever  softly  shininir, 

Lilvc  sunset  o'er  a  triUKjuil  sea  ; 
'Tis  there  thm  dwell'sl  in  hcauty's  brightness, 

More  fair  than  aught  on  earth  e'er  seems, 
'Tis  tiiere  my  heart  feels  most  of  lightness, 

Tiiere— in  the  lovely  Land  of  Dreams. 

'Tis  there  in  groves  I  often  meet  thee, 
And  wander  through  the  silent  shade, 

While  I,  in  genll.\st  accents,  greet  t!iee, 
^  My  own,  my  sweet,  my  constant  maid  . 

There,  by  some  fountain  fair,  reposing, 
While  all  around  so  tranquil  seems. 

We  wait  the  golden  evening's  closinir, 
There— in  the  lovely  Land  of  Dreams. 

I3ut  when  the  touch  of  earthly  waking 

Hath  broken  slumber's  sweetest  spell, 
Those  fairy  joys  of  fancy's  making 

Are  in  my  heart  remembered  well. 
The  day,  in  all  its  sunshine  splendor, 

Less  dear  to  nic  than  midnight  seems, 
When  visions  shed  a  light  more  tender 

Ariniud  the  lovely  Land  of  Dreams  ! 


l 


I''i'oin  tlio  novel 


Rorv  0'.M()i( 


2yi 


J'oi:ncAL  noiiK.s  of  sa 


MUh:i.  j.ovKit. 


JESSIE 


SwKET  Jessie  was  young  and  .simple, 

And  niirlli  boani'd  in  Iior  eye, 
And  iicr  smile  made  a  rosy  dimple 

Where  love  miirlit  wish  to  lie  ; 
IJut  wiien  lovers  were  siiThinfr  after, 

And  vowed  she  was  matehless  fair, 
Her  silver-soundinff  laughter, 

Said,  love  had  not  been  there. 

The  summer  had  seen  her  smilin(», 

'Mong  /lowers  as  fair  as  she, 
But  autumn  beheld  her  sifdiinf 

When  the  leaves  fMl  from  the  tree; 
And  the  liglit  of  her  eye  was  shaded, 

And  her  brow  had  a  cast  of  care, 
And  the  rose  on  her  cheek  was  fiided, 

J^'or  oh  !  love  had  been  there. 


When  winter  winds  were  blowing, 
Siie  roved  by  the  stormy  shore, 

And  looked  o'er  the  angry  ocean, 
And  shrunk  at  the  breakers'  roar; 

And  her  sighs,  and  her  tearful  wonder. 
At  the  perils  that  sailors  dare. 

In  the  storm  and  the  baltle's  thundc 


iiunder. 


Showed  1( 


>vo  M'as  trembling  then 


POKTICAL    WOliKji  OF  SAMIJKL  LOVKli. 

'  '.0  ring  is  upon  Iior  finger, 

And  the  raven  locks  are  irrev. 
let  traces  of  beauty  linger, 

Like  the  light  of  the  partinn-  dav 
She  looks,  with  a  glance  so  tender, 

On  a  locket  of  golden  hair. 
And  a  tear  to  his  ship's  defender, 
Sliows  love's  own  dwelling  there. 


29S 


-♦«♦- 


OH!    DON'T    YOU    REMEMBER? 


Oh  !  don't  you  remember  the  beautiful  glade, 
Where  in  childhood  togetlier  we  playfully  stray'J, 
Where  wreaths  of  wild  flowers  so  often  I  made, 
Tiiy  tresses  so  brightly  adorninfr? 
Oh,  light  of  foot  and  heart  were  then 

The  happy  children  of  the  glen: 

'J'he  cares  that  shade  the  brows  of  men 
Ne'er  darken  childhood's  morning. 

Oh  !  who  can  forget  the  young  innocent  hours 
That  were  passed  in  the  shade  of  our  home's  happy  bow'rs, 
When  the  wealth  that  we  sought  for  was  only  wild  flow'rs, ' 
And  we  thought  ourselves  rich  when  we  found  them  ? 
Oh  !  Where's  the  tie  that  friends  e'er  knew, 
So  free  from  stain,  so  firm,  so  true, 
As  links  that  with  the  wild  flowers  grew. 
And  in  sweet  fetters  bound  them  ? 


2i)(; 


J'oi:thm,  Wi>iiKs  OF  sutrtf.  /y<j7;« 


TlfK   Ml  All, 


i<'".rney  to  Tin.lnu-l.K,.  ^  '"'""'   '"='  '•^""^'"S  l^-'Sl-"'!  on  hU  la.,  fatal 


The  noontide  blazo  on  iho  desert  fell, 
As  the  traveller  reached  the  wishcd-for  well  • 
J|.a  vain  was  the  hope  that  had  cheered  hin/on, 
H.s  hope  m  the  desert-the  w.,ers-were  gone. 

Faintinrr,  ho  called  on  the  Holy  Name 
And  su-ift  o'er  the  desert  an  Arab  camo 

And  with  him  ho  brought  of  the  bles,sod'thin<., 
Ihat  faded  tl.o  poor  traveller  at  the  spring. 

"Dnnlc!"saidtheArab^"tho'Im„.tf.sf 
I'or  half  of  ,ny  journey  is  not  yet  past, 
Jis  long  ere  my  l..on,e  and  my  children  I  see 
But  the  crystal  troa-suro  VU  share  with  thee.-' 

"Nay,"  said  the  weary  one  ;~"  let  me  die,— 

I- or  thou  hast  even  more  need  than  I ; 

And  children  hast  thou  that  are  vnir!'-       r      • 

-»  I"'"  arc  matching  for  ifiee, 

And  I  am  a  lone  onc-„nne  watch  for  ,ue." 


-i4  ■?/  -f}  '.*#  i^  J*.^*^'!^!  -^'^Jjlip.'^' 


.  Davidson,  the 
rn  friuii  fniJia  in 


VOr.TICAL    WOUKS  OF  t^AMVKL  l.OVKtl. 

'I  Drink:-'  .aid  ih,-  Aral,.—-  My  chil.iroi.  shall  ceo 
Tlic'ir  lathri-  r.'turriintr ;_fe,u-  not  for  mo:— 
l-''>i-  He.  u'  ,  hath  .sent  mo  to  tlioc  this  day 
VVll!  w.itoh  (nor  mo  on  my  (k-sert  way  !"' 


L'l)/ 


UNDHR    THE    ROSE. 


If  a  soorot  you'd  koop  thoro  h  oa-  I  could  tell, 
Though  I  think,  from  my  oyos,  you  niiglit  guess  it  us 
But  as  it  might  ruillo  aiiothor's  repose, 
Like  a  thorn  let  it  he  ;— that  is— „n(l<-r  the  rose. 


well, 


As  Love,  in  the  garden  of  Venus,  one  day, 

Was  sporting  where  lie  was  forbidden  to  I)lay, 

Ho  feared  that  some  Sylph  might  his  mischief  disclose, 

So  he  slily  concealed  himself— under  a  rose. 

Where  the  likeness  is  found  to  thy  brentli  and  thy  lips, 
Where  honey  the  sweetest  the  smmnor  bee  sips. 
Where  Love,  timid  Love,  found  the  safest  repose. 
There  our  secret  we'll  keep,  doarest,-under  the  rose. 

The  maid  of  the  East  n  fresh  garland  may  wreathe, 
To  tell  of  the  passion  she  dares  not  to  breathe  : 
Thus,  in  many  bright  flowers  pbr>  |;or  flame  jnay  disclose, 
Bu.  in  one  she  finds  secresy  ;— under  the  rose. 


I 


■mr  4^  1'  »^  M 


2'Jty 


''omCAL    WUUKS  or  SAMCKI.   J,,V,:n, 


TIIK 


■'    '^''  ^  Vi;    'J'ifADK. 


Wruii  II  tu  ii„. 


"I  "I  Hi-  -.M.    (I 


l'">tiiin. 


I 
rr 


^Viii,N  ^'c■nl.s/i,•,st  ,,,,  fVoniftUewuv,., 

Who,..  ufson.foamtlK.ygracM^,I,y  „,„,,, 
lhiv,.-cli,:.o,slbi-tlioiro,kk>8sil,ov^ave 

AsshoIaund.'.l,inl,o,-sl.oII.;ho|i,irfrader: 
Hut  sIio,~aii  insurgent  hy  birtli, 

Unfo(torM|,yIf.oalor^ravol.,ui(., 
And  defying  our  lau-s  on  tiio  earth, 

So  hoMIy  cn.harkM  in  ti.o  Shuve  Trade. 

O'er  the  n-orI,I,  fro.n  that  hour  of  her  birth 
Sl>e  carried  her  8Iavc  Trade  victorious  • ' 

And  then,  to  her  daughters  of  earth 
Entrusted  tlie  privilege  glorious  : 

"  Unfettcr'd,"  she  cried,  "  never  leave 

One  slave  to  ol.ject  to  your  brave  trade, 
H'l.ile  you  stand  to  your  colors,  believe 
You  may  always  insist  on  your  Slave  IVadc!" 

"  Oil .'  'tis  glorious  a  heart  to  subdue, 

By  the  conquering  light  of  your  glances: 
»y  the  smile  that  endangers  a  few, 
^    And  the  sigh  that  whole  dozens  entrances 
i.ibnul  not  a  link  of  the  chain, 

Stand  by  me  each  merry  and  .rrave  maid  • 
Let  senators  thunder  in  vain—  ' 

The  huih-s  will  still  have  ihch  Slave  Trade  V 


j'onrfiw/.  woiih,:  "j- .^  \MtJ:r.  /.or/./.'. 


209 


WHEN    AND    WHERE. 


\\'rii'cn  III  a  |.ci|>iilMr  (ir^Nti  iiiiic 


•*Oh  lull  mo  when  nnd  tell  mo  where 
Am  I  to  meet  with  thee,  mv  fair?" 
"  I'll  meet  thee  in  the  secret  night, 
When  stars  are  beaming  gentle  light, 
Enough  for  love,  but  not  too  bright 
To  tell  who  blushes  there." 


•'  You've  told  me  tcJicn,  now  tell  me  where, 
Am  I  to  meet  witli  thee,  my  fair  ?" 
"  I'll  meet  thee  in  timt  lovely  place, 
Where  flow'rets  dwell  in  sweet  embrace, 
And  zopjiyr  comes  to  steal  a  grace 
To  shed  on  the  midnight  air." 

"  You've  told  me  when,  and  told  me  where, 
But  tell  me  ho7o  I'll  know  thou'rt  there  ?" 
"  Thou'lt  know  it  when  I  sing  the  lay 
That  wandering  boys  on  organs  play, 
No  lover,  sure,  can  miss  his  way, 
When  led  by  this  signal  air." 


I 


■M)i) 


/'"/  ■/■/«  lA   ){>>/.'/, 


\'s  or 


^AMn:i.  j.n\Kft. 


SOFT    Oi\    THE    EA}4. 


n  / 


Soft  on  the  car  falls  the  serenade, 

When  the  calm  evening  is  closinir  ; 
Sweet  are  the  echoes  by  music  mack', 
When  the  lake  is  in  nioonli<rlit  reposing: 
Hark,  how  the  sonnd 
Circles  around, — 
As  if  oacii  note  oi  the  meaauro 
Was  eaunht,  as  it  fell, 
In  some  water-spritc's  shell, 
Who  /loafed  away  witli  the  treasure. 

Soft  on  the  ear,  iVc. 

Soft  on  the  car  falls  the  serenade 

^  When  we  guess  who  the  soft  strain  is  breathing; 
Tiie  spirit  of  song  is  more  melting  made, 
With  the  spirit  of  tenderness  wreathing. 
Oh,  such  the  delight, 
In  the  calm  summer's  night, 
When  thro'  casements,  half  open,  is  slealing 
The  soft  serenade 
To  the  half-waking  maid, 
Who  sighs  at  each  tender  appealing. 

Soft  on  liie  ear,  &c. 


JfOF.ThM.    Wolth'S   of  SAMIKI.  ].< iVF.lt. 


301 


WHKX    GENTLE     Ml   HIC 


Whkn  ffciiUe  music's  souiidinfr — 

Sucli  as  this  ; 
'Tis  sweet  wiicn  friends  sunDiiiidiiK/ 

Sliaro  our  bliss  : 
But  lovo  tliciu  as  we  niav, 

We  lovo  tliciii  less,  wlicu  iitar, 
Tlian  when,  through  inern'ry's  tear 
"We  view  tliom — far  av/ay. 

When  over  deserts  burning, 

l-'ar  we  roam, 
'Tis  sweet,  at  last,  returning 

To  our  home : 
Ke't  happy  as  it  may, 

That  home  no  bliss  bestows 
So  fairy-bright,  as  those 
We  fancied  when  away. 

And  when  fond  hearts  arc  meeting, 

Beating  high  ; 
How  sweet  the  brilliant  irreetlng 

Of  the  eye  ! 
But  the'  so  bright  its  ray, 
To  lovers  far  more  dear 
Is  the  sad,  the  secret  tear 
Shod  fir  one — wluj's  far  awuv. 


3Ui 


VOKTIHAh    WOIiKS  OF  SAMUKl. 


J'O  VEH. 


SONG    OF    THE    SPANISH    PEASANT. 


How  oR  Ikivo  wc  inot 
^VIlel•e  the  gay  Castanet 
^1  tlie  spncrhtly  lundan-o  was  sounding  ; 
^VIloro  no  form  sccm'd  so  lig|,t, 
Nor  no  eye  beani'd  so  bright 
As  thine,  my  Lorcn9a,  to  mo  ; 
Though  many  surrouiifh'ng, 

Were  lovely  as  maidens  might  be, 
In  form  and  in  face, — 
Oh  !  llif-y  wanted  the  graoe 

That  ever  i^  {.hiving  n.nnd  thee. 

My  pretty  brunette, 
Canst  thou  ever  forget, 
How  I  trembled,  lest  hope  Should  deeuive  me? 
When  under  the  shade 
By  the  orange  grove  made, 
I  whisper'd  my  passion  to  thee. 
And  oh  Love  !  believe  me, 

Liiie  that  ever-blossoming  tree,* 
Thro'  sunshine  and  shade, 
In  this  heart,  dearest  maid. 
Is  love  evrr  blooming  for  tliee. 

•The  ofar);,,-trrP  hio.Homs  through  the  wholr-  voar 


rnKTlV.AL    \\0}:AS  of  SAMUKL   LUYKIi. 


303 


THE    iiAI'PJE8T    TIME    IS    NOW. 


Talk  not  (o  me  ol'  future  bliss  ! 

■Tallc  not  to  me  of  joys  gone  by  f 
For  us,  ilie  liappiest  liour  is  this, 

When  love  bids  time  to  Hy. 
Tlie  future— dou'  .  may  overcast, 

To  8liado\v  hope's  young  brow; 
Oblivion's  veil  may  shroud  the  past, 

The  happiest  time  is  now  ! 

Tho'  flowers,  in  spiey  vases  thrown, 

Some  odor  yet  exhale; 
Their  fragrance,  ere  the  bloom  was  flown, 

Breathed  sweeter  on  the  gale ; 
Like  faded  (lowers,  each  parted  bliss 

Let  memory  keep— but  liow 
Can  joy  that's  past  be  like  to  tiiis  ? 

The  happiest  time  is  now ! 

Unmark'd  our  couRse  before  us  lies 

O'er  time's  eternal  fide; 
And  soon  the  sparkling  ripple  dies 

>V'e  raise,  as  on  we  irlide  : 
Our  harks  the  brightest  bubbles  flin<r 

'or  over  from  their  [)row; 

Then  let  us  gailv  sail  and  sino-. 
"The  happiest  time  is  now!" 


304 


J'oj.-JICM.   ir*//,'/,- 


^'  i  '//•/■/      I  nvi:i{^ 


'TIS    TIME    TO    FLY. 


Bkwark  the  chain  love's  wreathin<T, 

When  some  sweet  voice  you  heai 
Whose  gentlest,  simplest  breathing 

Is  music  to  thine  ear; 
And  when,  in  glances  fleeting, 

Some  deep  and  speaking  eye 
With  thine  is  often  meeting, 

Oh  then — 'tis  time  to  fly  ! 

If  there  be  form  of  lightness 

To  which  thine  eyes  oft  stray, 
Or  neck  of  snowy  brightness — ■ 

Remember'd — when  a  way  ; 
These  symptoms  lovo  resemble, 

And  when  some  hand  is  nigh, 
Wliose  touch  doth  make  thee  treinbld, 

Oh  !  then — 'tis  time  to  flv  ! 


But  if  that  voice  of  sweetness, 

Like  echo,  still  return  ; 
And  if  that  eye  of  itrighfness 

With  fascination  burn  ; 
To  'scape  thou  art  not  able, 

No  etlbrt  vainly  try. 
For,  like  tlie  bird  in  fable, 

Ahis  !  thou  canst  not  tiy! 


POKTIC.M.    WOliKS   OF  S.\MI:kL    IJiVKU. 


:jo5 


MOLLY    CAREW. 


OcH  hone  !  and  what  will  I  do  ? 
Sure  i))y  love  is  all  crost 
Like  a  bud  in  the  fiust; 
And  there's  no  use  at  all  in  my  going  to  berj, 
For  'lis  ilhramci  and  not  sleep  that  comes  into  my  head. 
And  'tis  all  about  you, 
i\Iy  s^cet  Molly  Carcw— 
And  indeed  'tis  a  sin  and  a  shame ! 
You're  ooniplatcr  than  Nature 
In  ii\Qxy  feature. 
The  snow  can't  compare 
With  your  forehead  so  fair, 
And  I  rather  would  see  just  one  blink  of  your  eye 
Than  the  j)rettiest  star  that  shines  out  of  the  sky, 
And  by  this  and  oy  that, 
For  the  matter  o'  that, 
You're  moi«e  distant  by  far  tliau  that  same  I 
Och  hone!  weirasthru  ! 
-m  alone  in  this  world  without  you. 


i 


30G 


rOETlCAL    WORKS  o,-  SAM UKL   LnVKH. 

Och  hone  !  but  why  should  I  spake 
Of  your  forehead  and  eyes, 


When  your  nose  it  defies 
Paddy  Bh.ke,  the  schoolmaster,  to  put  it  in  rhv.^e, 
rho  there  s  one  Bukkk,  he  says,  that  would  c^Ul  it  ....li.e,- 

And  then,  for  your  cheek! 

Troth,  'twould  take  him  a  week 

Its  beauties  to  tell,  as  he'd  rather. 
Then  your  lips!  oh,  nmchree  ! 
In  their  beautiful  glow. 
They  a  pattern  might  be 
For  the  cherries  to  grow. 
'Twas  an  apple  that  tempted  our  mother,  we  know, 
i-  or  applos  were  scarce,  I  suppose,  long  ago, 
But  at  this  time  o'  day, 
■Pon  my  conscience  I'll  say, 
Such  cherries  might  tempt  a  man's  father ! 
Och  hone  !  weirasthru  ! 
I'm  alone  in  this  world  without  you. 

Oc:.  none !  by  the  man  in  the  mocn, 
I'ou  luxe,  me  all  ways 
I  hat  a  woiUiin  can  plaze. 
For  y«„  .i:„„o  ,»■;<.„  ,„  !,i,|,  „,.„;, j.^,  „,.^ 
As  wl,o„.™,.,l<csl„uo„ruj:,,  ,,„„,„„,,,,,       S    , 
liio'  the  j)ip(.r  I  bate, 
For  fear  ilio  owhl  chate 
V/ouIdn't  play  you  your  favorite  tune. 
And  when  you're  at  mass, 
My  devotion  you  crass, 
For  'tis  thinking  of  you, 
1  am,  Molly  Carew, 
While  you  wear,  on  purpose,  a  bonnet  so  deep 
That  1  can't  at  your  sweet  purfy  face  get  a  peep, 


i:iL 


it  snubWma^ — 


igfie, 


Oh  lave  oft*  that  bonnet, 
Or  else  I'll  lave  on  it, 
The  loss  of  iny  wanclherin'  sowl  ! 
Och  hone  !  wcirusthru  ! 
Och  hone  !  like  an  owl. 
Day  is  night,  dear,  to  nie,  without  you  I 

Ocli  hone  !  don't  provoke  me  to  do  it  j 
For  there's  girls  by  the  score 
Tiiat  loves  me — and  more, 
And  you'd  look  very  quarc  if  some  morning  you'd  meet 
My  wedding  all  marching  in  pride  down  the  street, 
Troth,  you'd  open  your  eyes. 
And  you'd  die  with  surprise 
To  tiiink  'twasn't  you  was  come  to  it ! 
And  faitli,  Katty  Naile, 
And  her  cow,  I  go  bail. 
Would  jump  if  I'd  say, 
"■  Katty  Naile,  name  the  day." 
And  tho'  you're  fair  and  fresh  as  a  morning  in  May, 
While  she's  short  and  dark  like  a  cold  wint^'er's  day 
Yet  if  you  don't  repent 
Before  Easter,  when  Lent 
fs  over  I'll  marry  for  spite  ! 
Och  hone  !  weirasthru  ! 
And  when  I  die  for  you. 
My  ghost  will  haunt  you  every  night  J 


307 


308 


I'orricM.   iio/. 


KS 


"f  samci:l  l.OVjrii 


WOUM)YOUKXO\VWlIOiiA.S„vv 


ovv? 


W0U1.U  yuij  know  wlio  has  my  vow, 
^  «lie  who  Iiol.is  my  heart  in 'kecpiMir, 
Graceful  as  the  wijlow-boiiirh 

O'er  thf  strraiulct  wccpin-r  ; 
Will,  lips  so  bright,  and  ferti"  .so  white, 

An.l  oyo.s  thai  shame  the  .stars  at  ni-rht, 
Oh  could  I  tell  |,er  ueautics  riirht 

It  would  mar  your  sleepin^r  r 

Would  you  know  who  has  my  vow, 

She,  who.sc  voice,  like  echo,  telliU 
anal  there  is  an  answering  part 

Within  her  young  heart  dwelling; 
The  .softest  .soun.l  that  e'er  di.l  wak^e' 

The  echoes  o\'  .«oino  fairy  lake, 
Ne'er  bore  the  bree:<e  along  the  brake 
A  sound  so  softly  swellin.ri-! 


Could  you  know  who  I.;is  my  vow, 
^  You  M-ould  Monder  at  my  daring; 
t'or,  to  grace  .so  fair  a  l)row, 
A  crown  is  worth  the  sharing ! 

With  step  as  light  as  mountain  "fiwn 
And  blush  as  lovely  as  the  dawn, 
No  form  by  fancy  ever  drawn 
U'lth  Iter's  can  hohl  comparing! 


fi. 


POKTWAI.    WORKS  OF  SAMUKh   LOVKli. 


yoa 


V  O  VV  1 


THE  ANGEL'S  AVING. 


ri:orc  w  a  (.wuvui  suppi-tition,  tliat  wlu-n  a  su,Me»  silence  takes  iilacc  ii.  a 
'•"■iipany  a>,  anK.I  at  that  mnn.nl  niakcH  a  circuit  am-.n^  then.,  an<l  the  lirM 
J.n-snn  who  breaks  .he  .H.nee  Is  snpposed  to  Inivc  been  tonehe.l  by  the  win, 

preleiable  to  numy,  ni  lilustiatiug  this  very  beauliCnl  sni.erstiliun. 


WiiEX  by  the  evening's  quiet  light 

There  sit  two  silent  loveivs, 
They  say,  while  in  such  tranquil  plight, 

An  angel  round  them  hovers  ; 
And  further  still  old  legends  tell,— 
The  first  who  breaks  the  silent  spell, 
To  say  a  soft  and  pleasintr  thinf 
Hath  felt  the  passing  Angel's  wing  ! 

Thus,  a  musing  uiinstrel  stray 'd 

By  the  summer  oeeati. 
Gazing  on  a  lovely  maid, 

With  a  bard's  devotion  : — 
Yet  this  love  he  never  spoke, 
Till  now  the  silent  spell  he  broke  ;— 
The  hidden  fire  to  flame  did  spring, 
Fann'd  by  the  passing  Angel's  wing  1 

"  I  have  loved  thee  well  and  lon<' 
With  love  of  Heaven's  own  making  1— 

This  is  not  a  poet's  song, 

J3ut  a  true  heart's  f«p(viking,— 


310 


I  Will  love  tbeo,  still,  untired'' 

He  fdt-1,0  spokc-an  one  inspiro.l- 

Iho  won],  did  from  Truth'«io„nta.H.sn,. 
'-inv.'ikonVU,ytheAn.;r]sw/n..' 

.Silence  o'er  the  maiden  fell, 

Her  beauty  loviior  luakinl^  •- 
And  by  ber  blnsh,  he  knew't'nll  v/ell 

The  dawn  of  love  was  breakin-r 

It  came  hko  sunshine  o'er  his  he,u-t  I 
He  felt  that  they  sho.xld  never  part 
^be  spoke-and  oh  !-the  lovely  tbin^ 
iiud  lelt  the  passing  Angel's  win-      ° 


NOEAH'S  LAMENT. 


Oh  I  tbinl  I  „„rt  ,„„„„  ,„y  c'„.Afa.,„«.c&.„. 

Ulosei  the  teiKlnl,  around  my  Iwurt  creep- 
I  Jre.n  all  the  day,  „„d  „t  ni,U  I  „au't   leap, 

Oh  Norah,  my  dariu.g,  come  over  the  soa !  " 
For  my  brave  and  ,uy  fond  one  is  over  the  soa, 

For  ti,1    H  ^."  '"'=-'""'  '"=  '"""^  -"«  '^vay   ' 
J-.  Lfc  of  n,y  bosom  !-u,y  Ou.kk.ma.chree .' 


FOETWAL    WOUKU  OF  BAMUEL  LOVEH. 


yu 


MY    GENTLE    LUTE. 


Mv  gentle  lute,  alone  with  Ihec, 

I  wake  thy  saddest  tone  j 
It  seems  ns  if  thou  mourn'st  with  ine 

For  hours  of  gladness  gone. 
If,  haply,  'mongst  thy  wailing  strings 

My  finger  lightly  fall, 
Some  vision  of  the  past  it  hrings — 

Of  days  we  can't  recall. 

My  gentle  lute,  how  oft  have  wc 

Beneath  the  moonlight  ray, 
To  beauty's  ear  breath'd  harmony 

In  many  a  love-taught  ky  ! 
But  she  who  loved— and  he  who  sung 

Are  changed,  my  lute,  and  thou 
That  oft  to  lays  of  love  hath  runsr. 

Must  tell  of  sorrow  now. 

Some  happier  hand  in  future  houi-s 

May  wake  thy  liveliest  striufr, 
And  wreathe  thee  o'er,  my  lute,  with  How'rs 

As  I  did in  my  spring. 

But  yield,  till  then,  beibre  we  part. 

Thy  saddest  tone  lo  me, 
And  let  thy  mourning  master's  heart 

An  echo  find  in  thee. 


3J2 


POKTiC 


^•A   H7>/,A.V  .,.,,,,,,. ^,   ^^ 


VEli. 


m 


Ar  \  Iff  ff  : 


ThoSiini,',,/-!),,.  »,    „,    . 
MaKCH,  Miu-cli  •— \l'l,v  li        I     1    ,      . 

v,r:;:::; .-■;■ '-^.^-i'^; -r:;" 

J.ilo,  Irrsliincn  CMiulnto 

»   ^"'icailircad'sinitsbordei-. 
"pi.  .«„..,, --.„veyo„„„rcol,-n.. 

Tl.nn  e  '  ^       ^^  ''"*  "'"'-e  uncivil 

"*i.. .;,:  :::::;:,:r^""f-'' 

""'..lo  all  ,!,,.„  „. ,„  '■^"i""g"'«l  ".*.■; 


i  "■'•;••  -\tr  the  Lord 


•  r. 


'  VEN. 


POMTJCAL   WOHK.S  Of  ^AHUEt.    LO^KR. 


ai3 


r  ixn 


THE  COK  VENT  BELLE. 


border 
nl, 


rtn<r, 


JL'  fjorder  J 


Jlastin'r : 


I'diejrrigiit, 
irder. 


There  once  was  a  novice,  as  I've  heard  tell, 

A  novice  of  some  renown, 
Whoso  raven  hair  in  ringlet's  fell 
O'er  his  ;  et  unshaven  crown  • 
i3ut  his  vows  as  yet  he  had  never  said 
Except  to  a  blooming  blue-eyed  maid,' 
And  she  had  never  confessed,  till  now 
To  this  novice,  who  yet  had  not  made  'his  vow. 
ho  pious  she  grew,  that  early  and  late 
«he  was  tapping,  alone,  at  the  convent  gate  • 
And  so  often  she  went  her  sins  to  tell 
That  the  villagers  called  her  the  Convent  BeUe. 

I>iug  dong, 
My  song, 
My  song  s  of  a  Convent  BeUo. 

The  novice  continued  the  maid  to  hear 
And  swiftly  the  months  went  round  • 
He  had  nearly  passed  his  trial  yeai-. 
Before  he  was  guilty  found  : 
But  then,  suspicion  began  to  spread 
So  the  cowl  he  cast  from  his  curlv  hLd 
ine  maiden  he  wedded  next  morning  tide. 
And  his  penitent  palo  was  his  blooming  bride  I 


314 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVSR. 

The  Prior  he  stormeil  at  the  bi-idegroom  meek, 
Who  answered  him,  f;i.st,-Nvith  .1  smile  ou  his  cheek, 
"  Good  father,  indeed  I  have  acted  well,— 
I  was  only  ringimj  the  Couveut  Belle." 

Dinq-  doug, 

Mv  hojig, 

My  soug's  of  a  Couveut  Bella 


O.  DO  NOT  BID  ME  FOllGETI 


0,  ho  not  bid  me  forget, 

Tho'  of  thy  heart  I'm  bereft 
Since  you  forbid  me  to  hope, 

Mem'ry  is  all  I  have  left. 
Wisdom  would  cast  a  veil  o'er  tho  past 

But  when  was  love  ever  wise '? 
Sooner  I'd  give  up  the  day 

Than  forget  the  sweet  light  of  thine  eyes  I 
0,  do  not  bid  me  forget  I 

Life  has  no  longer  for  mo 

Flow'rs  that  the  future  can  bring ! 
Its  autumn  depends  on  the  sweets 

That  mem'ry  preserves  from  the  spring. 
Do  not  forbid  thoughts  that  lie  hid, 

Deep  as  some  gem  in  the  mine, 
Whose  lustre,  tho'  lost  and  unspon, 

Outrival  the  brightest  that  shine. 

O,  do  not  bid  mo  forget ! 


ER. 


neelc, 
liis  cheek, 


FOKTWAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUKL   LOVKR. 


315 


rent  Bella, 


MORNING,    SWEET   xMORNING. 


TI 


eyes  I 


!?• 


MoRNiNr,,  swoet  niorninnr,  I  welcome  thy  ray, 
Life  opens  bright  liko  the  op'ninir  of  dav, 
Wuking  to  fragrance  the  fresh-blooming  llow'rs, 
Lighting  with  sunshine  our  earliest  hom-s  ;    ' 
Evening,  witii  shadows,  is  hurrvlii"  on. 
Let  us  be  gay  ere  the  noontide  be  gone  :— 
For  shadows  increase,  as  the  sunshine  grows  less; 
Then  gather  the  joys  that  our  youth  may  possess  ! 
Oh  !  morning,  sweet  morning,  I  welcome  thy  ray, 
Life  opens  bright,  like  the  op'ning  of  day  ! 

The  dxiw  on  the  rose-bud  at  morning  may  lie, 
And  tear-drops  will  tremble  in  youth's  spark!it>g  eye, 
liut  soon  as  the  stm  sheds  his  warmth  and  his  light, 
The  dew-drops  all  vanish— the  flow'rets  are  bnVr},t. 
Bui,  at  cold  evening,  the  dew  fUlJing  fast. 
Will  rest  on  the  rose— f)r  the  sunshine  is  past :— . 
And  the  tear-drop  of  age  will  be  lingering  thus, 
When  the  sunshine  of  soul  hath  departed'from  us 
Oh  t  morning,  sweet  morning,  I  welcome  thy  ray, 
Life  opens  bright  like  the  op'ning  of  dav  ! 


31G 


ro£ncAL  n'oj!Ks  of  samckl  lover. 


SERENADE. 


Hark  to  my  lute  swfotly  ringing! 

List,  love,  to  me ; 
Dearest,  tiiy  lover  is  singing 


Singing  to  thee  ;— - 


Yet,  to  the  balcony  stoalintr. 

No  nianilcd  beauty  I  see, 
No  casement  is  dinily  revcahrxr 

Thy  fair  form  to  me. 

Perchance  thou  art  sleeping— my  strain,  lov«, 

Meets  not  thine  ear, 
And  visions,  in  shadowy  train,  love, 

Haply  appear. 
Wake  thee  !  and  hearken  to  me,  love, 

If  Fancy  should  whisper  of  ill  • 
But  if  thy  dream  be  of  me,  love. 

Oh  !  slumber  still. 

Their  bright  watch  in  Heaven  now  keeping, 

Beams  ev'ry  star  ; 
But  the  sweet  eye  that  is  sleeping 

Brighter  is  far  : — 
For  when  tiie  pale  dawn  advances 

Tremulous  star  fires  decav. 
While  e'en  at  noon-tide  thy  glance  is 

Bright  as  the  day. 


POETICAL    WOniuS  or  SAMVKI.   J.uVKl;. 


iU7 


VICTORIA    THE    QUEEN. 


All  hail  to  tlie  queen  of  tlie  fair  and  the  bravo  ! 

Let  the  bolil  song  of  joy  reach  the  skies  ! 
Bright,  bright  o'er  the  foam  of  her  own  subject  wave 

See  the  star  of  Victoria  arise  ! 
Young  queen  of  the  ocean,  proplietic  our  fire 

To  liail  tlice  tiie  greatest  we've  seen. 
Hark  !  the  tiiundering  strain  of  the  old  sea-god's  quira 

To  welcome  Victoria  the  queen  ! 


May  years  full  of  honor  and  loyalty's  love 

Be  thine  in  thy  place  of  renown  ; 
To  say  that  we  honor  thee,  means  not  enou"h : 

For  Britons  all  honor  the  crown. 
But  the  crown  that  encircles  young  beauty's  fair  brow, 

With  fonder  devotion  is  seen, 
And  chivalry  sheds  its  romance  o'er  the  vow 

We  pledge  to  Victoria  the  queen  ! 

Long,  long,  royal  maid,  may  the  olive  entwine 
With  the  laurels  that  circle  thy  crown  ; 

But  if  war  should  arouse  the  old  LioN  arrain. 
'Twill  be  to  increase  thy  renown : 

To  battle  while  rushing,  each  heart  would  beat  high 
To  triumph,  as  wont  we  have  been, 

Propitious  to  conquest  our  bold  batile-cry, 
"  Victoria  for  Englanc."s  (liir  queen  !" 


i     ■ 


318 


^'"i:n<:A,.   uo^J^s  .,■  .un;,  ,.y,:,. 


SONG    OF    THE    ITALIAN    TR 


OUIJADOUR 


A  TKOULAnouK  gay  fVon,  the  Southland  can.e  forth 

^^— veil  to  the  SouthhH.d  for  ever,"  said  he, 
-■g>'et  not  a.y  country  while  list'nin.  to  thoe  • 
^-•tfn- voice  like  an  echo  ft-omFairvIand  seems 
Avo,con.adetou-alcenahardrron.hisdrean.s.l 

^'-tn.,htLlonduhh  his  visions  in  regions  of^hliss 
A..1  .uakehnn...et  that  l.ewakcn'd^  this;  ' 

1    en  farou-ell  to  the  SouthhuKl,  the  Northland  for  n.o 
Tis  my  country,  wherever  I'.n  list'ning  to  thee  ! 

"And  as  Hookup  in  thy  heautifn!  eves, 
How  can  I  but  think  of  n.y  own  sunny  skies? 
^    .le  thy  bright  golden  ringlets,  in  love.na.in.  twine 

Omr.val  the  tendrils  that  curl  round  the  viner°' 

^. en  tyfbrn,  in  its  e.,uisite  lightness,  reeails 
''•«fatuos]'vol.fti,H,ir  Italy's  halls; 

';;'^/^''\^-^^-^i^Uon.,^y\ule  looking  on  ihcel 

No.no!thouartn.orethann,yeountrvton.o! 

ii-n  farewell  to  ,he  Southland,  the  ^forthland  for  .ne 
Ti.  my  country  wherever  I'u.  looking  on  thee '" 


ror/rii.u.  WijiiKs  <)r  :-.\Mn:i.  i.<)Vi:i:. 


Hit) 


THE    CHILD    AND    THE    AUTUMN    LEAF. 


Down  by  llio  river's  bank  I  .strayM 

Upon  an  autumn  cU:y  ; 
Beside  the  fading  forest  there, 

I  saw  a  child  at  i)luy. 
She  play'd  among  the  yellow  leaves — 

The  leaves  that  once  were  green, 
And  flung  upon  the  passing  stream 

VvHiat  once  had  blooming  been: 
Oh  !  deeply  did  if  touch  my  heart 

To  see  that  child  at  play  ; 
It  was  the  sweet  unconscious  sport 

Of  childhood  with  decay. 

Fair  child,  if  by  this  stream  you  stray, 

•When  after  years  go  by, 
The  scene  that  makes  thy  childhood's  sport, 

May  wake  thy  age's  sigh  : 
When  fast  you  see  around  you  fall 

The  summer's  leafy  pride, 
And  mark  the  river  hurrying  on 

Its  ne'er  returning  tide  ; 
Then  may  you  feel  in  pensive  mood 

That  life's  a  summer  dream  ; 
And  man,  at  last,  forgotten  falls — 

A  leaf  upon  the  stream. 


:\2u 


J'oj:Tn,u.  noi:K.  nrsnn;:/.  ,.ov,n 


^ATHEU   L.^,    ,^,,    ,,,,^,,^^^    ,^^^^^^ 


0.^  Father  land  f,.n,I.-ouId'.sttl.ou  know 

^V  hy  we  should  cull  it  Father  land  2 
it  IS,  that  Adam  here  below, 

Was  made  of  earth  by  Nature's  hand; 
And  he,  our  father,  made  of  earih, 

Hath  peopled  earth  on  ev'ry  hand 

And  we,  in  memory  of  his  birth, 

Do  call  our  country,  "FatluM-'laml." 

At  first,  In  Eden's  bowers  tl,ev  say  ' 

No  sound  of  speech  had  Adam  caught, 
«ut  whistled  like  a  bird  all  day- 

And  may  be,  'twas  for  want  of  thought  : 
But  I^ature,  with  resistless  laws, 

Ma.le  Adam  soon  surpass  t!,e  bird. 
She  gave  him  lovely  Eve-because" 

If  he'd  a  uif,._,hoy  must  have  word,. 

And  so,  the  Nat,v,  L,.,,  |  ,,,j,,^ 

%  male  descent  is  proudly  mine; 
J  1^0  LANGUAGE,  as  the  tale  hath  told, 

^Vas  given  in  the  female  line 
And  thus,  we  see,  ou  either  hand 

We  name  our  blessings  whence  they've  sprun. 
We  call  our  country  Fathku  land,  ^      °' 

^Ve  cull  our  language  ^fonrKato,.„,. 


vi:h 


rOKTlVAL    WOliKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVJJ;. 


324 


ONGUE. 


MY    MOUXTAIX   HOME. 


My  mountain  homo  !  My  mountain  J)ome  ! 
Dour  arc  tiiy  iiiUs  to  me! 

Where  first  my  cliildhood  lov'.]  to  roam- 
Wild,  as  the  summer  bee: 

The  summer  bee  may  rrathcr  sweet 
From  flovv'rs  in  sunny  prime  ; 

And  mem^y  brinrrs,  with  wing  as  fleet, 
Sweet  tlioughts  of  early  time: 

Still  fancy  bears  me  to  the  hills, 
Where  childhood  lov'd  to  roam— 

I  hear— I  see  your  sparkling  rills, 
My  own,  my  mountain  homo  ! 

I've  seen  their  noble  forests  wide, 

I've  seen  their  smiling  vale  ; 
Where  proudly  rolls  the  silver  tide 

That  bears  their  glorious  sail : 

But  these  are  of  the  earth  below; 

Our  home  is  in  the  sky  ! 
The  eagle's  flight  is  not  more  bright 

Than  paths  that  we  may  try ! 
While  all  around  sweet  echoes  rin<r, 
Beneath  heaven's  azure  dome  -,— 
Then,  well  the  mountaineer  may  sino- 
"  My  own,  my  mountain  home !" 


322 


I'OETWAL   WOUKS   .-^AMUKL    LoVKH. 


THE    IIOUU    BEFfillK    day. 


There  is  a  beautiful  siiyiiic  unionist  Hip  ir:  i.  . 
cir.uu..a„ce.--.Kemo.  J;.    X""      :'     ^rp;^^';^  '-P*-  "">-  under  a.,ver. 
.    «nej  M.> ,     ,).at  the  d.rk.'.j  hour  of  all,  is  the  hour  befon 


day." 


Bekeft  of  hi.s  love,  and  bereaved  of  his  fame 
A  k,.,g|,t  to  the  cell  of  the  old  heru.it  can  <>  •  ' 

-^h  rocs  they  have  slander'd  and  forced  me  t'o  flv, 
^K  tell  Hie,  good  father,  what's  left  hut  to  die  ?'' 

"Despair  not,  my  son;-,hou'lt  be  righted  ere  lon.- 
^or  Heaven  is  above  us  to  right  all  the  wron<. '   ^ 
Remember  the  words  the  old  hermit  dotli  say°-"- 

'  Tis  ahvays  the  darkest,  the  hour  before  day  V 

"Then  back  to  the  tourney  and  back  to  the  court 
And  join  thee,  the  bravest,  in  chivalry's  sport  •  ' 
Tiiy  foes  will  be  there-and  thy  lady-love  too,' 
Ana  Shaw  loth,  thou'rt  a  knight  that  is  gallant  and  true  '" 
Ho  rode  in  the  lists-all  his  foes  he  o'erthi-ew 
And  a  sweet  glance  he  caught  from  a  soft  eye'  of  blue 
And  he  thought  of  the  words  the  old  h-oiit  di,l  =ay 
For  her  glance  was  as  bright  as  the  dawiiiii.a'of  day 


AS. 


I'OKTJVAL    WOUKS   OF  SAMOhJ.    l.i/VKn. 

The  ftast  it  wtis  lato  in  liic  eastl.-  ihat  iii(r!it, 

And  tlio  Ijanqiicl  was  bouming  wiiii  lii-uuty  and  litrht; 

IJnt  hriiriitcst  of  all  is  tlio  latly  who  .ulides 

To  tlii'  pon.-l.  u  ici-e  a  kniglit  v.illi  a  fk-et  courser  bides. 

Slic  iKiiisrd  -1!  .ath  Iho  arch,  at  the  lirToo  ban  dog's  bark, 

She  trembled  to  look  on  the  night — 'tv  ...  so  dark  • 

JJnt  her  lover,  he  whisper'd — and  thns  did  he  sav, 

'•Sweet  love,  il  is  darkfst,  ilip  hour  Ix-fbrc  day." 


323 


--♦♦♦- 


liope  under  advert 
I,  is  the  hour  befura 


LOVE    ME! 


mi:- 


LovE  me  !  Love  me  ! — dearest,  lovo  me 

Let  whate'er  betide ; 
Tfiough  it  be  forbid  by  fate 

To  bless  me  with  a  bride  : 
Our  hearts  may  yet  bo  link'd  in  one 

Though  fortune  frown  above  mo. 
That  hope  will  gently  guide  mc  on, 

Then  love  me,  dearest !  Love  me . 


nd  true!" 


r  blue, 
day. 


Love  me,  dearest !  Dearest,  lovo  me ! 

Brighter  days  may  shine  ; 
When  thou  shalt  call  me  all  thine  own, 

And  thou'lt  be  only  mine  ' 
But  should  that  bliss  be  still  denied; 

Still  fortune  frown  above  me, 
'1  hou'It  be  my  choice — though  not  my  bride. 

Then  love  mo,  dearest  \  Lovo  me  \ 


;ji'i 


J".>niru.     '^n,:h:.    ny  ssmcHI.    Lnvrit, 


'TWAS    THE    DAY    OF    THE    FEAST. 


JVh.-n  ihe  annual  trilm.,-  ,„■  ,)„..  ,i,,  „,•  \v,,t.  rloo  ,„  „..■  cro„  „  ot  i:n"l,u„l  «-,,  „n.l.  ,c 

■-'. ' 'u;;::;.- :;  ;::;:;::r::;:;;.r;::r;;.  ,.;;;'^;:; -'"  :-7  ";••  --- 

*::;;:::•• "- - -^";::^: -::;::;:;;::;;::;::;.:.::;;: 


I'lV^s  fheclay  of  tho  feast  in  tiie  clueflain's  hall, 
'Twas  the  day  ho  had  seen  the  foenian  fall, 
|T\vas  the  day  that  his  country's  valor  stood 
'Gainst  stnel  and  fire,  and  the  tide  of  blooil. 
And  the  day  was  mark'd  by  his  country  well-- 
For  they  i^ruvo  l.im  broad  valleys,  the  lull  and  the  dHI, 
And  they  ask'd,  as  a  tribute,  the  hero  sliould  bring 
The  /lag  of  the  foe  to  the  foot  of  the  kinjr. 

'Twas  the  day  of  the  feast  in  the  chieftain's  i,al], 
And  the  banner  was  brought  at  the  chieftain's  call ; 
And  he  went  in  his  glory  the  tribute  to  bring, 
And  lay  at  the  font  of  the  brave  old  l<ing : 
IJut  the  hall  of  the  king  was  in  silence  and  grief, 
And  smiles,  as  of  old,  did  not  greet  the  chief; 
For  he  came  on  the  angel  of  victory's  wing. 
While  tiie  angel  of  death  was  awaiting  the^'king. 


u. 


.ST. 


iiiiil,  \v;i,s  m.iilc  ic 
on  rt'ciivini;  llio 
>r  Kimlind  ;"  nin. 
i  ri)iiiiiiriiioriiti(iii 
■MiiR  llic  Inmi.T 
■.  Ili:it  his  ilivill' 
,  iliit  il  ii;aiir.illj| 


POETICAJ.   Woiihs  t>F  SAMVEI.   l.oyjCli. 

'Vhv  ciiifldnii  li,.  ki,.  l!  !,v  tiir  v^vli  uithc  kU)"  • 
••  I  kiic.u,'    ,sii,i  III,.  iii,„i,,,vli.  '•  !!„■  liihiitf  you  l.riii^r, 
<«iv.'  IPC  ihr  haulier,  en-  lili-  ilcj.iil  ;" 

And    h.     |M<.SS"(|    III,.    (];,„■   1,,   lii^    lliiillmir    i„.nn. 

'•It  is  joy.  c'i-n  in  lirull,,"  ,.ri,,|  n,...  ,,„,      ,.^.1^  ..  ;^^  ^,j^^.^ 
Tliat  my  coiiiitry  haili  kni.uii  sucU  it  i','i.noiis  ilay  ' 
llfuvfn  •rraiit  1  may  li\  •  till  tii.-  mnlh.alil'.s  fall, 
That  my  cliicitain  mav  ii.-a.sl  in  iiir,  warriur  hull !'' 


-♦♦♦- 


HOW    SWEET    'TIS    TO    llETURN, 


32u 


(Irll, 


Ilow  sweet,  how  sweet  'lis  to  return  " 

Where  once  we've  happy  been, 
The'  paler  now  lite's  lamp  may  burn, 

And  years  have  roll'd  between  ; 
And  if  the  eyes  beam  welcome  yet 

That  wept  our  parting  tnen, 
Oh  !  in  tlie  smiles  of  friends  thus  met 

We  live  whole  years  again  ! 

They  tell  us  of  a  fount  that  flow'd 

In  happier  days  of  yore, 
Wiiose  waters  bright  fresh  youth  bestow'd; 

Alas !  the  fount's  no  more. 
But  smiling  Memory  still  appears, 

Presents  her  cup,  and  when 
We  sip  the  sweets  of  vanish'd  years. 

We  live  those  vears  again. 


82ti 


l'"l:JJr.u,    ijv/.-A.V   ul    siMiJj,   LOVEH. 


THE    MOUNTAIN   DEW. 


T. 

Jiv  yon  mountain  tippM  uitli  clouJ, 
By  the  torrent  foun.unj.'  loud, 
By  the  dingle  uhm-  -.h.-  ?uirp]e  bells  of  heather  grew, 
WJuM-e  the  Alpine  flow'rs  tire  hid, 
And  where  bounds  ilie  nimble  kid, 
There  we've  wandcr'd  both  i,.gofher  throu^l,  the  mountain  dew. 
With  what  deli-ht  insmmuer's  ni-ht  we  tn.<|  the  twilight  gloom! 
The  air  so  full  of  fragrance  from  the  tlow'rs  so  full  of°bloom 
And  our  hearts  so  full  of  joy-tLr  aught  else  there  was  no  room. 
As  we  wander'd  both  together  tiirougli  the  mountain  dew. 

n. 

Those  sparkling  gems  that  rest 
On  the  mountain's  flow'ry  breast, 
Are  like  the  joys  we  number— they  are  bright  and  few, 
For  a  while  to  earth  are  iriven. 
And  are  called  again  to  heaven, 
When  the  spirit  of  the  morning  steals  the  mountain  dew. 
But  memory,  angelic,  makes  a  heaven  on  earth  for  men, 
Her  rosy  light  reculleth  bright  the  dew-drops  back  again  ■ 
The  warmth  of  love  exhales  them  from  that  w^ell-remembered  j^loj 
Where  we  wander'd  both  together  through  the  mountain  dew. 


•Jl. 


I'nI.llrM.    ||,/A'A,s   iiy  .^.\MVL:l   LuVKli. 


327 


Tin:   MMJl'l'INd'   OF   FOKH    AM)   THE   MCETJNO 

OF    FUIEMJS. 


rew. 


:)untuiii  dew. 
light  gloom ! 
)f  Lloom, 
as  no  room, 
n  dew. 


I'iM.  tlif  cup  !  fill  it  high  !     L.t  us  drink  to  the  might 
Of  th(>  inaidiood  that  joyously  rushes  to  figlit  ; 
A.id,  truo  to  tho  (loath,  all  undiiichiiig  will  stand, 
l-'or  our  hdinc,  and  our  hcurlh,  and  (jur  own  native  land  ! 
'Tis  the  hright  sim  of  June,  Hint  is  gilding  tho  crost 
Of  tlic  warriors  that  fight  fijr  their  ishs  of  the  West; 
Til"  brorzc  that  at  morning  but  i)lay.s  with  the  plumo. 
At  cvcMiiiJg  may  wavo  the  red  grass  o'er  the  tomb; 
The  corn  that  has  ripen'd  in  summer's  soft  bronth, 
[n  an  hour  may  be  reap'd  in  the  harvest  of  death  : 
Tlien  drink  to  their  glory — the  glory  of  tfioso 
Who  triumph'd  t.r  fell  in  that  meeting  of  foes. 


dew. 
-n, 
^in  ; 

ibercd  gl^j 
itain  dew. 


But  fill  the  eup  liiglier  to  drink  to  the  friends 

Bound  fast  in  alllctiun  that  life  onlv  ci.ls  ; 

Whoso  hearths,  when  defended  froin  f     -  that  have  dared, 

Are  prized  all  the  more  when  . „  ,   ^s  they  are  shared  ! 

Far  i)ett(  r  the  wine-eup  will,  ru:>v  mav  flow, 

To  the  health  of  a  friend  than  liie  fall  of  a  foe  ; 

Tho'  bright  arc  the  laurels  thiit  <j1f.ry  may  twine, 

Far  softer  the  shade  of  iho  ivy  and  vine  : — 

Then  fin  the  cup  liigh^.r  !     The  battle  is  won— 

( >ur  perils  are  m 

On  the  meet!!!  > 


■ — our  feast  has  begun  ! — 


"n,  pa 


f row  attends  ; — 


Rosy  joy  crowns  our  meeting — the  meeting  of  friends  I 


iff'l 


a28 


I'otrnvAL    \\ni!S.:    of 


SA.Vi '/-:/.    I.OVKIU 


THE   BIRTH    OF    SAINT   PATRI 


CK, 


1. 

On  the  eighth  day  of  March  it  was,  some  people  say, 
That  Saint  Patrick  nt  midnight  he  first  saw  the  day  • 
While  others  declare  'twas  the  ninth  he  was  horn,"  ' 
And  'twas  all  a  mistalce  between  midnight  and  morn  ; 
For  mistakes  will  occur  in  a  hurry  and  shooiv, 
And  some  blamed  the  bahhy-aud'some  blamed  the  clock-. 

rill  with  all  their  cross  questions  sure  no  one  could  know 
If  the  child  was  too  fast— or  the  clock  was  too  slow. 


n. 


I 


x\ow  the  first  faction  fight  in-owld  Ireland,  they  say, 
Was  all  on  account  of  Samt  Patrick's  birth-day. 
Some  fought  for  the  oighlh-for  the  ninth  more  would  die 
And  who  wouldn't  see  right,  sure  they  blacken'd  his  eye . 
At  last,  both  the  factions  so  positive  grew. 
That  each  kept  a  birth-day,  so  Pat  tiren  h'ad  two, 
.  ■!!  Father  Mulealiy,  who  showed  them  their  sins, 
Said,  «'  No  one  could  have  two  birth-days,  but  a  twins:' 


POKTK  Ar    WOJ.'KS  OF  SAMlTj,    ]. 


'U'Kn. 


III. 


828 


Says  he,  '<  Boys,  don't  bo  lighting  for  eight  or  for  ulne. 
Don  t  be  always  dividing-bin  so.netin.es  con.bine  • 
Comb.ne  eight  with  nine,  and  seventeen  is  the  mark, 
So  let  that  be  his  birth-day"--«  Amen,"  says  the  clerk. 
II  he  wasn't  a  twins,  sure  our  hist'ry  will  show- 
1  .at,  at  least,  he's  worth  any  two  saints  that  we  know  '" 

J.en  they  all  got  blind  drunk-which  completed  their  bliss 
And  we  keep  up  the  practice  from  that  day  to  this 


— ♦♦♦'- 


MY  MOTHER  DEAR. 


Thkre  was  a  place  in  childhood  that  I  remember  well 
And  there  a  voice  of  sweetest  tone  bright  fairy  tales  did  tell. 
And  gentle  words  and  fond  embrace  were  giv'n  with  joy  to  me. 
When  I  was  in  that  happy  place,-upon  my  mother's  knee. 

When  fairy  tales  were  ended,  "Good-night,"  she  softly  said. 
And  k.ss  d,  and  laid  me  down  to  sleep,  within  my  tiny  bed  • 
And  holy  words  she  taught  me  there-methinks  I  yet  can  see 
"or  angel  eyes,  as  close  1  knelt  beside  my  mother's  knee. 

In  .he  sickness  of  my  childhood;  the  perils  of  mv  prime: 
1 1.0  sorrows  of  my  riper  years  ;  the  cares  of  ev'rv  time  : 
H  hen  .ioubt  and  danger  weighed  n.e  down-then  pleading  all  Ibr 
me,  * 

It  was  a  fervent  pray'r  to  Heaven  that  bent  my  mother's  kneo. 


330 


POETICAL    WOIiKS  OF  HAMUKL  LOVlUi. 


THE    PILGRIM    HARPER. 


The  night  was  cold  and  dreary — no  star  was  in  the  sky, 
When,  travel-tired  and  weary,  tlie  harper  raised  his  cry  ; 
He  raised  his  cry  witliout  the  gate,  his  night's  repose  to  win, 
And  plaintive  was  the  voice  that  cried,  "  Ah,  won't  you  let  me  in  ?" 


11. 


Tiie  portal  soon  was  open'd,  for  in  tlie  land  of  song, 

The  minstrel  at  the  outer  gate  yet  never  linger'd  long ; 

And  inner  doors  were  seldom  closed  'gainst  wand'rers  such  as  he 

For  locks  or  hearts  to  open  soon,  sweet  music  is  tlio  key. 


III. 


But  if  gates  am  opod  hy  inrlody,  so  grief  can  close  them  fast, 
And  sorrow  o'er  that  once  bright  hall  its  silent  spell  had  cast  • 
All  undisturh'd  thr  spid t  tliere,  his  web  might  safely  spin. 
For  many  a  day  no  fo.stiwi  lay — no  harper  uas  lei  in. 


But  when  this  harper  enter'd,  and  said  he  came  from  far, 
And  bore  witlj  him  from  Palestine  the  tidings  of  the  war. 
And  he  could  tell  of  all  wlio  fell,  or  glory  there  did  win, 
The  warder  knew  his  noble  dame  would  let  that  harper  in. 


hJi. 


I'OETICAL    WOJIKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVF.U. 


331 


V. 


Tiiey  leJ  him  to  the  buwer,  the  hdy  knelt  in  prayer; 
The  harper  rais'd  a  wdl-knowa  lay  upon  the  turret  stair; 
The  door  was  oporl  with  hasty  hand,  true  love  its  n-eed  did  win, 
Fur  the  lady  saw  her  own  true  knight,  when  that  harper  was  let 
in  ! 


sky, 
cry; 
e  to  win, 
luletme  in?" 


'TIS    SWEET    TO   REMEMBER. 


rs  such  as  he 
key. 


;!iem  Aist, 
had  cast ; 

ly  spin, 
1. 


n  far, 
war, 
win, 
per  in. 


Oh  !  'tis  sweet  to  remember  how  brightly 

The  days  o'er  us  swiftly  have  flown, 
When  the  hearts  that  we  prize  beat  as  lightly. 

And  fl'd  upon  hopes  like  our  own; 
When  with  r   ,   .  .ye  were  scarcely  acquainted, 

Wliile  jo..    *    ;  our  own  bosom  friend  ; 
Oh  !  days— wing'd  too  swiftly  with  pleasure. 

Ye  are  past— and  our  dream's  at  an  end  : 
Yet  'tis  sweet  to  remember! 

The  walks,  where  we've  roam'd  without  tiring; 

The  songs— tiiat  together  we've  sung ; 
The  jest— to  whose  merry  inspiring 

Our  mingling  of  laughter  hath  rung. 
Oh  !  trifles  like  these  become  precious 

Embalm'd  in  the  mem'ry  of  years  ! 
The  smiles  of  the  past— so  remember'd 

How  often  they  waken  our  tears ! 

Yet  'tis  sweet  to  remember  ' 


832 


rOETlVAL   WOUKS  OF  HAMUKL   J.OVKfU 


GRIEF    IS    MINE. 


I. 

Grief  is  mine,  since  thou  art  gone, 

Thou,  my  love,  my  secret  one, 

I  hide  my  thoughts,  and  weep  alone, 

That  none  may  hear  or  see  ] 
But  grief,  tho'  bilent,  tells  its  tale  : 
They  watch  my  cheek,  and  see  'lis  pale : 
But  the  cheek  may  fade,  and  the  heart  ne'er  fail — 

I  will  still  he  true  to  thee. 

Sual,  sua/,  a-run.* 


II. 

Oh  !  give  me  wings,  sweet  hird  of  air, 

Soaring  aloft  in  the  bright  clouds  there ; 

There  is  hope  in  Heaven — on  tlie  earth  is  despair — 

Oh  !  that  a  bird  I  were  ! 
'Tis  then  I  would  seek  my  place  of  rest, 
And  fly  unto  my  loved  one's  breast, 
Within  his  heart  to  make  my  nest. 

And  dwell  for  ever  there. 

Sual,  sual,  a-run. 

•  Pronotince<l  S/itilc  aroon — signifying — "  Come,  mv  seen  tone.* 


POKTICAL    WOUKS  oF  SAMUKI.    LOVKH. 


333 


THE    WEDDING    OP    THE    ADRIAT!C, 


Mark  !  Lady,  mark, 
Yon  gilded  bark 

Beareth  a  duke  in  pride  ; 
His  costly  ring, 
Bravely  to  fling, 

And  make  the  sea  his  bride. 
Proud  of  her  lord 
All  ocean  smiles, 
And  with  soft  waves 
Kisses  our  isles, 

While  her  own  mirror  gorgeously 
Doubles  the  pomp  she  loves  to  see. 


n. 

Vain  is  thy  pride, 
Seeking  a  bride, 

In  the  cold,  faithless  sea. 
Why  wouldst  thou  throw 
Rich  gems  below. 

She  will  be  flilse  to  thee. 
Dearer  I  hold 

Plain  rings  of  gold 
Binding  two  hearts 

Ne'er  growing  cold. 


VOETWAL    WOIiKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVK 


It. 


Proud  lord,  if  thou  lia^t  rule  o"t,T  M 


Vast  as  th 


ic  sea, 


0  ocean  true  love  can  bo. 


Vain  is  tliy  pride, 
Seeking  a  bride 


In  tlie  cold  faitlil 


ess  8ca. 


Mine  be  the  riuf 


True  love  can  brinfr — 


Such  be  the 


ring  for  theo ! 


GENTLE  LADY,  HEAR  x\IY  VOW 


■Ulil 
ri 
i 


Gentle  lady,  hear  my  vow, 

Hear  my  vow,  nor  hid  me  -part 
With  the  charms  I  gaze  on  nov/, 

Love  might  tame  the  wildest  heart. 
Doubt  not  I  will  true  remain, 

Doubt  not  what  those  eyes  inspire, 
Vulcan  forged  the  strongest  chain 

When  Venus  gave  the  fire  ! 

Blame  me  not  if  vows  I  break. 

Vows  that  I  have  made  before ; 
Thine  the  power  my  faith  to  shake, 

Yet  lo  make  me  still  adore ! 
As  mountain  streams  their  brightness  pour, 

In  tribute  to  the  sovereign  sea  • 
So,  the  loves  i"ve  known  before 

All  arc  iJiit  in  thee  ! 


\U. 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LO  VEH. 


335 


ca, 


CUPID'S   WING. 


I. 

The  dart  of  Love  was  feathered  firrt 

From  Folly's  wing,  they  say, 
Until  he  tried  his  shaft  to  shoot 

In  Beauty's  heart  one  day  ; 
lie  miss'd  the  maid  so  oft,  'tis  said, 

His  aim  became  untrue, 
And  Beauty  laugh'd  as  his  last  shaft 

He  from  his  quiver  drew  ; 
"In  vain,"  said  she,  '-you  shoot  at  me, 

You  little  spiteful  thing — 
The  feather  on  your  shaft  I  scorn, 

When  pluck'd  from  Folly's  wing." 

2i. 

But  Cupid  soon  fresh  arrows  found, 

And  fitted  to  his  strinf^ 
And  each  new  shaft  he  feather 'd  from 

His  own  bright  glossy  wing ; 
He  shot  until  no  plume  was  left, 

To  waft  him  to  the  sky, 
And  Beauty  smiled  upon  the  child, 
When  he  no  more  could  fly : 
«  Now,  Cupid,  I  am  thine,"  she  said, 
"  xjeave  ofT  thy  archer  play. 
For  Bea-y  yields — when  she  is  sure 
Love  will  not  fly  away." 


386 


POETICAL    WollKS  or  :iAMUAL   LOVEIU 


I   CAN  NE'ER   FORGET   THEE. 


I. 

It  is  the  cliimo  ;  the  hour  draws  near 

When  you  and  I  must  sever  j 
Alas,  it  must  be  many  a  year, 

And  it  maij  be  for  ever. 
Mow  long  till  we  shall  meet  again  : 

How  short  since  first  I  met  thee  ; 
How  brief  the  bliss—how  long  the'pain-^ 

For  I  can  ne'er  forget  thee. 


II. 

You  said  my  heart  was  cold  and  stern  j 
You  doubted  love  when  sti-ongCvSt: 

In  future  years  you'll  live  to  learn 
Proud  hearts  can  love  the  longest. 

Oh  .'sometimes  think  when  press'd  to  hear, 
^  When  flippant  tongues  beset  thee, 

That  all  must  love  thee  when  thou'rt  near; 
But  one  will  ne'er  Ibrgct  thee  ! 


I'OETICAL    WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEU. 

III. 

The  changeful  sand  cloth  only  know 

The  shallow  tide  and  latest ; 
The  rocks  have  marked  its  highest  flow, 

The  deepest  and  tho  greatest ; 
And  deeper  still  the  flood-marks  grow  : 

So,  since  the  hour  I  met  thee, 
The  more  the  tide  of  time  doth  flow. 

The  less  can  I  forget  thee  ! 


837 


*•*■■ 


TWAS   LOVING   THEE   TOO   WELL, 


Oir,  frown  not,  lady,  frown  not  so. 

On  one  whose  heart  is  thine  ; 
Let  one  kind  word  before  I  go, 

Let  one  kind  look  be  mine  ! 
An  aching  heart,  wliile  e'er  I  live. 

My  fault  shall  deeply  tell ; 
But  oh !— 'twas  one  thou  might'st  forgive— 

'Twas  loving  thee  too  well. 

Oh  !  if  that  smile  had  been  less  sweet, 

That  cheek  less  blooming  been  ; 
Those  eyes  less  bright  I  used  to  meet, 

Or  were  those  charms  less  seen ; 
Or  if  this  heart  had  been  too  cold 

To  feel  thy  beauty's  spell, — 
Thou  ne'er  hadst  call'd  thy  slave  too  bold, 

For  loving  thee  too  woll  I 


938 


POETlt'AL    WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


THE    SNOW. 


tS 


I. 

Xn  old  man  sadly  said, 
Where's  tl  e  snow 
That  fell  the  yqur  that's  fled- 

Where's  the  snow 
As  fruitless  were  the  tu  ii 
Of  mary  a  joy  to  ask, 

As  the  snow ! 


The  hope  of  airy  birth. 

Like  the  snow, 
Is  stained  on  reaching  earth, 

Like  the  snow : 
While  'tis  sparkling  in  the  ray 
'Tis  melting  fast  away, 

Like  the  snow. 


in. 

A  cold  deceitful  thing 

Is  the  snow. 
Though  it  come  on  dove-like  wing- 

The  false  snow  \ 
'Tis  but  rain  disguis'd  appears; 
And  our  hopes  are  frozen  tears — 

Like  the  snow. 


rOKTKM   WOIiKS  OF  SAMUEL  l.OVKIt. 


3:J9 


WHEN    THE    aUN    SINKS    TO    RE8T. 


VVhe.-(  the  sun  sinks  to  rest, 
And  the  star  of  the  west 

Siieds  its  soft  silver  light  o'er  the  sea, 
What  sweot  tiioughts  arise, 
As  the  dim  twilight  dies— 

For  tlien  lam  thinking  of  thee  ! 

Oh  !  tlien  crowding  fast 
Come  the  joys  of  the  past, 

Through  the  dimticss  of  days  long  gone  by, 
Like  the  stars  peeping  out, 
Through  the  darkness  about, 

From  the  soft  silent  depth  of  the  sky. 


u. 

And  thus,  as  the  ni.dit 
Grows  more  lovely  and  bright, 
^  With  the  clust'ring  of  planet  and  star, 
So  this  darkness  of  mine 
Wins  a  radiance  divine 
From  the  light  that  still  lingers  afar. 

Then  welcome  the  nir^ht 

With  its  soft  holy  light ! 
In  its  silence  my  heart  is  more  free 

The  rude  world  to  for^^et. 

Where  no  pleasure  I've  met 

Since  the  hour  that  I  parted  f-om  thee. 


310 


rOLTIVAL    WOUKU  Oh'  HAMUKI.   I.OVKIl 


TilK    SHOUT    OF    NED    OF    THE    HILL. 


I. 


The  hill !  the  hill !  nith  its  sparkling  rill, 

And  it.s  dawning  air  so  light  and  pure, 
Whore  the  morning's  eye  scorns  the  mists  that  He 

On  the  drowsy  valley  and  the  moor. 
Here,  with  the  eugle  I  rise  hetimes  ; 

Here,  with  the  eagle  my  state  I  keep ; 
The  first  we  see  of  tiic  morninj'  sun, 

And  his  last  as  Iw;  sets  o'er  the  deep ; 
And  tiiere,  while  strife  is  rife  helow, 

Here  from  the  tyrant  I  am  free: 
Let  the  shepherd  slaves  the  valley  praise, 

But  the  hill  ! — the  liiil  lor  mo  ! 


il. 

The  baron  below  in  iiis  castle  dwells, 

And  his  garden  boasts  the  costly  rose  ; 
But  mine  is  the  keep  of  the  mountain  steep, 

Where  the  maljhless  wild  llower  freely  blows! 
Let  him  fold  his  sheep,  and  his  harvest  reap, — 

I  look  down  from  my  mountain  throne  ; 
And  I  choose  and  pick  of  the  flock  and  the  rick, 

And  what  is  his  I  can  make  my  own  ! 
Let  the  valley  grow  in  its  wealth  below, 

And  the  lord  keep  his  high  degree  j 
But  higher  am  I  in  my  liberty — 

The  hill!— the  hill  fljr  mel 


roKllCM,     WnUHs   OF  .'<.\MiKI.    LUVKIi. 


311 


IIILL. 


SALLY, 


« 


(( 


Sallv,  Sally,  sliilly,  slially, 

Sally,  why  not  name  the  day  ?" 
Harry,  Harry,  I  will  tarry 

Longer  in  love's  flow'ry  way!" 
Can't  you  make  your  mind  up,  Sally  ? 

Why  embitter  thus  my  cup  ?" 
Harry,  I've  so  gmat  a  mind, 

It  takes  a  long  time  makin  r  m\" 


■Sally,  Sally,  in  the  valley, 

You  have  promised  many  a  time,  • 
On  the  sunny  Sunday  morning, 

As  we've  heard  the  matin  chimo  ; 
Heark'ning  to  those  sweet  bells  ringing, 

Calling  grateful  hearts  to  pray, 
I  have  whispered — 'Oh  !  how  sweetly 

'I'hey'Il  proclaim  our  wedding  day!*  " 


"  Harry,  Harry,  I'll  not  marry, 

Till  I  see  your  ryes  don't  stray  ; 
At  Kate  Kilcy,  you,  so  slily, 
Stole  a  wink  the  other  day." 
"  Sure  Kate  Riley,  she's  my  cousin :" 
'*'  Harry,  I've  a  cousin  too  ; 
If  you  like  such  close  relations, 
ril  have  cousins  close  a  <  you." 


^m,: 


b42 


POETIGAL   W01iK8  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


\w 


"Sally,  Sally,  da  not  rally, 

Do  not  mock  luy  tender  woe  ; 
Play  me  not  thus  sidlly  shally, 

Sally,  do  n-ot  tease  nic  so ! 
While  you're  smiling,  iiearts  beguiling, 

Doing  all  a  woman  can  ; 
Think — though  you're  almost  an  angol, 

I -am  but  a  mortal  man!" 


SLEEP,   MY   LOVE.* 


Sleep,  my  love— sleep,  my  love, 

Wake  not  to  weep,  my  love. 
Though  thy  sweet  eyes  are  all  hidden  from  me  : 

Why  shouldst  thou  waken  to  sorrows  ;ike  mine,  love, 

While  thou  may'st,  in  dreaming,  taste  pleasure  divine,  love. 

tor  blest  are  the  visions  of  slumbers  like  thine,  love- 
So  sleep  thee,  nor  know  who  says,  «'  Farewell  to  thee !" 

Sleep,  my  love— sleep,  my  love. 
Wake  not  to  weep,  my  love, 

Though  thy  swort  eyes  are  all  hidden  from  me  : 
Hard  'tis  to  part  without  one  look  of  kindness, 
Vet  sleep  more  resembles  fond  love,  in  its  blindness. 
And  thy  look  would  enchain  me  again ;  so  I  find  less 

Of  pain,  to  say,  "  Farewell,  sweet  slumb'rer,    to  thee  !" 


•  From  the  novel  '^i  Hory  O'Moro. 


.«- 


FOETIGAL    WOliKH  OF  SAHUKL  LOVKli. 


84S 


THERE   IS  A  GENTLE   GLEAM. 


There  is  a  gentle  gleam  when  the  dawn  is  nigh, 
That  sheds  a  tender  light  o'er  the  morning  sky, 

When  we  see  that  light,  we  know 

That  the  noontide  soon  will  glow, 

O,  such  the  light  I  know 
In  my  true  love's  eye. 

11. 

There  is  a  blushing  bud  on  the  spring-tide  bough 
That  tells  of  coming  fruit — tho'  'tis  fruitless  now, 

So,  the  blush  I  love  to  trace 

O'er  the  beauty  of  that  face 

Tells  that  love  will  come  apace 
As  I  breathe  my  vow. 


HI 

There  are  memories  of  the  past  which  we  all  love  well. 
And  the  present  rings  its  chime  like  a  silver  bell. 

But  the  future — all  unknown, 

Hath  a  music  of  its  own, 

For  the  promise  of  its  tone 
Can  all  else  excel  I 


Ui 


2'Ot'rJf'AL    \\o/;hs  oJ-    SAMirKJ.    IJjVKn. 


ASK    ME    NOT    WHAT    I    AM    THINKING. 


f 


Ask  me  not  wliat  I  am  thinking, 
Why  pale  sadness  sits  on  my  cheek 


Not,  when  the  full  heart 


is  slnkinnr 


Is  the  fit  moment  to  speak 


o» 


Wait— only  wait  till  to-morrow, 

When  morn  on  my  parting  shall  shine, 

Perchance,  \n  thine  own  silent  sorrow, 
Thou  'It  guess  at  the  meaning  of  mine. 

Haply,  at  eve,  when  you  wander 

Through  the  bloom  and  the  sweets  of  thy  bowers, 

Thy  thougiit  of  the  ha)ui  wiil  be  fonder 

That  yesterday  gathered  thee  fiowers; 
And,  though  as  bright  ones  be  braided 

At  night  in  thy  ricii  raven  hair. 
The  brow  with  regret  will  be  shaded 

That  he  who  adores  is  not  there. 

And,  in  the  ball's  mazy  measure, 

Amidst  all  the  homage  of  smiles. 
Vainly  tho  lu rings  o^  pleasure 

Around  thee  are  spreading  their  wiles  • 
There,  'inong  the  many— a  lone  one  ; 

Vainly  the  rcvol  may  siiine : 
Midst  all  the  mirth— tlion  'rt  mine  own  one, 

Thongh  I  am  absent  — I  'm  thinn ! 


POETIVM.   WOJiKS  OF  tiAMUKL   LOVKH. 


845 


WIDOW    MACHREE. 


I. 

Widow  mackrcc,  ifs  no  wonder  yo>.i  frown, 

Och  lione  !  widow  niachree  ; 
Faith,  it  ruins  your  looi<s,  that  same  dirty  black  gown, 

C)ch  hone!  widow  machree. 
How  altered  your  air, 
With  that  close  cap  you  wear — 
'Tis  destroying  your  hair 

Which  should  be  flowing  free: 
Be  no  longer  a  churl 
Of  its  black  silken  curl, 

Och  hone  !  widow  machree  ! 


Widow  machree,  now  the  summer  is  come, 

Och  hone  !  widow  machree  ; 
When  everything  smiles,  should  a  beauty  look  glum  ? 

Och  hone  !  widow  machree. 
See  the  birds  go  in  pairs, 
And  the  rabbits  and  hares — 
Why  even  the  bears 

Now  in  couj)les  agree  ; 
And  the  mute  little  fish, 
Though  they  can't  spake,  they  wish, 

Och  hone  !  widow  nuichree. 


I 


8i0 


roKTlCAL    WuliUS  OF  SAMUKI.    I.OVHU. 


s  <ii 


Widow  umuhieo,  uii<l  wiioii  winter  comes  in, 
Ocii  huiKi  !  widow  maclirue. 

To  bo  poking  the  lire  all  alone  is  fi  sin, 
Och  lionc  !  widow  inaciiree. 

.SiM-c  tliC  shovel  and  ton^s 

To  each  oilier  boIon<^s, 

And  tlje  kettle  suvr^  son<^s 

Full  of  fiiinilv  Jilco  : 

Wjalo  alone  with  your  cMip, 

Like  a  herinit  you  sup, 

Och  hone!  widow  mach roc. 


IV. 

And  how  do  you  know,  with  the  comforts  I've  towld, 

Och  hone  !  widow  machree, 
But  you're  keeping  some  poor  fellow  out  in  the  cowld, 

Oeh  hone !  widow  machree. 
With  such  s-'^is  on  your  head. 
Sure  your  peace  would  be  fled, 
Could  you  sleep  in  your  bed, 

Without  thinking  to  see 
Some  ghost  or  some  sprite, 
That  would  wake  you  each  ni^rht, 

Crying,  "  Och  hone !  widow  machree." 


J 


V. 


Then  take  my  advice,  darhng  widow  machree, 
Och  iione  !  widcw  macjiree. 

And  with  my  advice,  faith  I  wish  you'd  take  me, 
Och  hone !  widow  machree. 


POETIVAL    WO UKS   "F  SAMri:'!.    I.OVEH. 


HI 


You'd  have  me  to  desire 
Then  to  stir  up  tlie  fire  ; 
And  sure  Hope  is  no  liar 

In  whispering  to  me, 
That  the  ghosts  would  depart, 
W^iien  you'd  me  near  your  heart, 

Och  hone  !  widow  machrec , 


OH!    ONCE    I   HAD   LOVERS.* 


Oh  !  once  I  had  lovers  in  plenty, 

When  a  colleen  I  lived  in  the  glen  ; 
I  kiil'd  fifty  before  I  was  twenty  : — 

How  happy  the  moments  flew  then ! 
Then  Winter  I  ne'er  coulu  discover, 

For  Love  brightcn'd  Time's  dusky  wing  ;- 
Oh  !  when  ev'ry  new  month  brought  a  lover, 

The  year  it  secm'd  always  like  Spring. 


But  Cupid's  more  delicate  pinion, 

Could  never  keep  up  with  old  Time ; 
Kg  the  gr2y.beard  assumes  his  dominion, 

When  the  mid-day  of  life  rings  its  chime: 
Then  gather,  when  morning  is  shining. 

Some  flow'r  while  the  bright  moments  last, 
Which  closely  around  the  heart  twining, 

Will  live  when  the  summer  is  past ! 
•  From  the  novel  of  Rory  O'More. 


31b 


J'vi-rriCA/.   \\(>i:ks  c^' ,n  i.i/r;;/,  i.oyy.it. 


THE    DOVE    80\0. 


I 


I 


I. 

Coo!  Coo/  Coo!  Coo! 

'I'hu;-  0  <i  I  hear  tho  turtle  dovo, 
Coo/  Coo;  Coo/ 

Murimn-'nr'  iowh  her  love  • 
And  ars  she  fl'^.-v  from  Iree  to  tree, 
How  nieitiug  ^icemed  the  notes  to  me- 

Coo!  Coo!  Coo! 

80  like  the  voice  of  lovers, 

•'Twas  passing  sweet  to  hear, 
The  birds  within  the  covers, 

In  the  spring-time  of  the  year. 

11. 

Coo!  Coo!  Coo!  Coo! 

Thus  the  song's  returned  again — 
Coo!  Coo!  Coo! 

Through  the  shady  glen  : 
But  there  I  wandered  lone  and  sad, 

While  every  bird  around  was  gla(|. 


<     ^t^ 


It. 


POKTiVM.    WnUKS   or  SAMlia.    r.OVKli. 


349 


Coo!  Con/   Cno! 
Thus  so  tiiiidly  niiiriiiurcil  tlioV, 

Coo!   Ci'o!   (■„„/ 
\\'liilc  /■•(_//  love  Was  ;i\v;i\". 
Alici  Vi't  IIK'  s.Hig  \<:\  lovers, 

Tlionuli  Slid,  i.ssucct  !i)  liiiir, 
From  birds  within  the  covers, 
III  tii(i  sprinfr.tinie  of  the  ypar. 


■♦♦♦ — 


BRING    ME    THAT    AXCIKNT    BOWL. 


Bring  me  that  ancient  bowl  of  wine, 

Bright  as  the  ruby's  blaze, 
Around  its  brim  methinks  still  shine 

The  smiles  of  former  days ! 
And  thus,  while  to  my  lip  it  bears 

The  treasures  of  the  vine, 
Deeply  my  soul  the  transport  shares 

From  this  old  bowl  of  mine ! 


IS 


Bring  me  the  harp,  for  memory's  sake: 

That  harp  of  silent  string — 
1  long  its  slumbering  chords  to  wake 

In  strains  I  used  to  sin^ : 
And  as  I  dre&m  of  that  fair  form, 

In  youth  adored — oh  then. 
Once  more  I  feel  my  heart  grow  warm, 

And  sing  of  love  again  ! 


yf'         i 


850 


VuE'nVAJ.    WOIIKS  (jF  SAMiJ.f,    1.0  V  Kit. 


THE    SUxNSniNE   IN    YOU. 


It  is  sweet  when  we  luok  round  the  wide  world's  waste, 

To  know  that  the  desert  bestows 
The  palms  where  the  weary  heart  may  rest, 
The  spring  that  in  purity  flowa. 

And  where  have  I  found 

In  this  wilderness  round 
That  spring  and  that  shelter  so  true ; 

Unfailing  in  need, 

And  my  own,  indeed  ? — 
Oh!  dearest,  I've  found  it  in  vou ! 


II. 


And,  oh  when  the  cloud  of  some  darkening  hour 

O'ershadows  the  soul  with  its  gloom. 
Then  where  is  the  light  of  the  vestal  pow'r, 
The  lamp  of  pale  Hope  to  illume  ? 

Oh  !  the  light  ever  lies 

In  those  brit,ht  fond  eyes, 
Where  Heaven  has  impress'd  its  own  blue, 

As  a  seal  from  the  skies; 

And  my  heart  relies 
On  that  gift  of  its  sunshine  in  you  I 


rOETICAL    WOIiKS  OF  tiAMUKL  LOVKIt. 


851 


MACAUTHY'S    GRAVE. 


I. 

The  breeze  was  fresh,  tlic  morn  was  fair, 
The  stag  had  left  his  dewy  lair  ; 
To  cheering  honi  and  baying  tongue. 
Killarney's  echoes  sweetly  runtr. 
With  sweej)ing  oar  and  bending  mast, 
The  eager  chase  was  following  fast  • 
When  one  light  skiff  a  maiden  steer'd 
Beneath  the  dcej)  wave  disappear'd  : 
While  shouts  of  terror  wildly  ring, 
A  boatman  brave,  with  gallant  spring 
And  dauntless  arm,  the  lady  bore- 
But  he  who  saved — was  seen  no  more  ! 


II. 

Where  weeping  birches  wildly  wave, 

There  boatmen  show  their  brother's  grave; 

And  while  they  tell  the  name  he  bore, 

Suspended  hangs  the  lifted  oar: 

The  silent  drops  they  idly  shed, 

Seem  like  tears  to  gallant  Ned; 

And  while  gently  gliding  by. 

The  tale  is  told  with  moistened  eye. 

No  ripple  on  the  slumb'ring  lake 

Unhallowed  oar  doth  ever  make 

All  undisturb'd,  the  placid  wave 

Flows  gently  o'er  Maoarthy's  grave. 


352 


I'fJXTWAL   WOUKS  Of  SAMUEL  LOYKH. 


THE    BOWLD    SOJKR   BOY. 


I. 

Oh  there's  not  a  trade  that's  gouig. 

Worth  showing, 

Or  knowing, 

Like  that  from  glory  growlnn-. 

For  a  bowld  sojer  boy  j 
Where  right  or  left  we  go, 
Sure  you  know, 
Friend  or  foe 
Will  have  the  hand  or  toe. 

From  a  bowld  sojer  boy  . 
There's  not  a  town  wo,  march  thro', 
But  the  ladies,  looking  arch  thro' 
The  window-panes,  will  serrch  thro' 

The  ranks  to  find  tiiei-  joy  j 
While  up  the  stre 
Each  girl  you  meet, 
With  look  so  sly, 
Will  cry, 
"  My  eye  ! 
Oh,  isn't  he  a  dnrlmg,  the  bowld  sojer  L-v  !" 


POKTKIM.    Wonss   ny  sWIIKt.    I.OVKIi, 


8S8 


II. 

But  wlieii  we  get  tlio  route, 

How  thoy  pout 

And  they  sliouf, 

While  to  the  right  about 

Goes  tiie  bowld  sojcr  boy. 

Oh,  'tis  then  that  ladies  fair 

In  desj)iiir 

Tear  their  hair, 

But  "  the  divil-a-oMc  I  care," 

Says  the  bowld  sojer  boy  ' 

For  tho  world  is  all  before  us. 

Where  the  landladies  adore  us, 

And  ne'er  refuse  to  score  us, 

But  chalk  us  up  with  joy : 

VVe  taste  her  tap. 

We  tear  her  cap — 
•*  Oh,  tliat's  the  chap 

For  me !" 

Says  she ; 
**  Oh,  isn't  he  a  darling,  the  bowld  sojer  boy  f" 

III. 

"  Tien  come  along  with  me, 
Ciramach  f^e. 
And  yo  o, 

How  happy  yc         ill  be 

With  your  bowld  sojer  boy  j 
Faith!  if  you're  up  to  fun, 
^Vith  me  run ; 
'T will  be  done 
In  the  snapping  of  a  gun," 

Says  the  l»owld  sDJer  boy  ; 


'1 


864 


i>0£TICAL    WOltKS  OF  SAMUKI.  J.OVKH. 


"  And  'lis  then  that,  without  scfindal, 
Myself  will  j.roudly  dundlo 
The  little  furthiug  candle 

Of  our  mutual  flame,  my  joy ! 
May  his  light  siiine, 
As  bright  as  mine, 
Till  in  the  line 
He'll  blaze, 
And  raise 
The  glory  of  his  corps,  like  a  bowld  sojer  boy  !" 


^*» 


THE    BEGGAR. 


I. 

'TwAS  sunset  when 

Adown  the  glen, 
A  beggar  came  with  glee  j 

His  eye  was  briglit, 

His  heart  was  VmUt, 
His  step  was  bold  and  free. 
And  he  danced  a  merry  measure 

To  his  rollick  roundelay  ; 
"  Oh,  a  l>     gar's  life  is  pleasure, 

For  he  works  nor  night  nor  day  \^ 


J'OJJTlVAL    Wulih.S  Of  SAMLKl,    1,0V Kli. 


355 


II. 

♦'  Let  fathers  tuil, 

Let  mothers  moil, 
And  dau<,'hter3  milk  th(    Icinoj 

Wiiat  Lord  can  boast, 

So  bravo  u  Jiost 
or  servants  as  are  mine  ? 
The  world  is  my  wide  mansion, 

Mankind  my  servants  be, 
And  many  a  lady  in  the  land 

Would  live  and  beg  with  me  ** 
III. 

The  beggar  laugh'd, 

The  beggar  quaff'd, 
While  many  a  jest  he  told. 

The  miller  swore 

He  ne'er  before, 
Such  beggar  did  behold. 
The  mother  fdled  his  can, 

And  the  daughter  smiled  as  he 
Did  toast  her  as  the  loveliest  low 

That  eyes  did  ever  se. 

IV. 

Now  all  is  still, 

Within  the  mill, 
Even  the  goodvvife's  tongue. 

All  sleep  but  two — 

You  may  guess  who, 
Or  vainly  I  have  sung. 
The  beggar  cast  his  rags, 

Her  lover  Mary  spied, 
The  miller  lost  a  daughter, 

And  the  hunter  gained  a  bride  F 


"■^!  ,:  • 

j                     || 

^       1 

1 

35(5 


I'OhTJC.iL    WoJ:KS  of  .SAMUKL   T.OYKli. 


SAY    NUT    xMY    HEART    IS    COLD. 


I 


I. 

Say  not  my  heart  is  cold, 

Because  of  a  silent  tongne  ; 
Tlic  lute  of  faultless  iiiculd 

111  silence  oft  hath  liunj;. 
The  fountain  soonest  spent 

Doth  babble  down  the  steep  ; 
But  tlie  stream  that  ever  went 

Is  silent,  strong,  and  d  jep. 

II. 

The  charm  of  a  secret  life 

Is  given  to  clio>cest  things  :• 
Of  flowers,  the  flagrance  rite 

Is  wafted  on  viewless  wiivrg: 
We  see  not  the  charn)cd  air 

Bearing  some  witching  sound  ; 
And  ocean  deep  is  where 

The  pearl  of  price  is  found. 

III. 

Where  are  the  stars  by  day  ? 

They  burn,  though  all  unseen ; 
And  love  of  purest  ray 

Is  like  the  stars,  I  ween  : 
Unmark'd  is  the  gentle  light 

When  the  sunshnio  of  joy  appears, 
But  ever,  in  sorrow's  night, 

'Twill  glitter  upon  t/iy  tears  ! 


J'OKTIUAL    WOIiKS  OF  SAMUEL  LoVJJIl. 


t)0  I 


A    LEAF    THAT    REMINDS    OF   TIIEE. 


How  sweet  is  the  hour  we  give, 

Wiien  lancy  may  wander  free, 
To  the  friends  who  in  memory  live  ! — 

For  then  I  remember  thee  ! 
Then,  wing'd,  like  the  dove  from  the  ark, 

My  heart,  o'er  a  stormy  sea. 
Brings  hack  to  my  lonely  bark 

A  leaf  that  reminds  of  thee  ! 

But  still  does  the  sky  look  dark, 

The  waters  still  deep  and  wide  ; 
Oh  !  when  may  my  lonely  bark 

In  peace  on  the  shore  abide  1 
But  tlirougli  the  future  far. 

Dark  tliough  my  course  may  bo, 
Thou  art  uiy  guiding  star  ! 

My  iiear;  still  turns  to  thee  I 

HI. 

When  I  see  thy  friends  !  smile, 

I  sigh  when  I  hear  thy  name; 
But  they  cannot  tell  the  while 

Whence  the  smile  or  the  sadness  came. 
Vainly  the  world  may  deen) 

The  cause  of  my  sighs  they  know : 
The  breeze  tiiat  stirs  tho   sf  earn 

Knt)Ws  n-it  thi'  tl(  ji'h  hrlow. 


358 


I'OETILAL    WORKS  OF  ^AMiLL   /jil'h 


n. 


THE    TWO    BIRDS. 


1:? 


I. 

A  BRIGHT  bird  lived  in  a  golden  cage. 
So  gently  tended  by  groom  and  page, 
And  a  wild  bird  came,  her  pomp  to  see, 
And  said,  "  I  wish  I  could  live  like  thee  j 

For  thou  canst  sing. 

And  prune  thy  wing, 

While  dainty  fare, 

Thy  slaves  prepare." 
The  wild  bird  came,  Jier  pomp  U  joe, 
And  said,  '•  I  wish  I  could  live  like  thee !" 


■ 


II. 

Then  from  t1i«  ca^e  came  a  plaintive  voice, 
Which  bade  the  wild  bird  to  rejoice, 
"For  I'd  give  my  golden  cage,"  said  she, 
•'  For  thy  humble  perch  on  the  wild-wood  tree  j 
For  thou  canst  sing, 
On  freedom's  wing — 
These  bars  of  gold, 
A  slave  enfold  ; 
rd  give  my  golden  cage,"  said  nhr, 
«•  I''or  \Vy  huiiihh'  peich  on  the  wiM  wood  free." 


POETICAL   WOJiKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVElt. 

HI. 

Then,  when  the  bird  of  the  wild-wood  knew 
The  bright  one  weary  of  bondage  grew, 
He  set  the  plaintive  captive  free, 
And  away  they  flew  singing  "  Liberty !" 

In  joy  they  roam. 

Their  leafy  home, 

And  trill  the  lay, 

The  live-long  day— 
The  lay  of  love,  from  hearts  set  free, 
For  Love  was  blest  with  Liberty  I 


359 


-♦♦♦- 


PADDY'S   PASTORAL    RHAPSODY, 


I. 

When  Molly,  th*  other  day,  sir, 
Was  makin'  of  the  hay,  sir, 
I  ask'd  her  for  to  be  my  bride, 
And  Molly  she  began  to  chide  ; 
Says  she,  "  you  are  too  young,  dear  Pat," 
Says  I,  "my  jew'l,  I'll  mend  o'  that." 
"  You  are  too  poor,"  says  she  beside, 
And  to  convince  her  then  I  tried, 
That  wealth  is  an  'nvintion 
Which  the  wise  should  never  mintion, 
And  liiat  ilesh  is  grass,  and  flowers  will  lade, 
And  it's  better  be  wed  than  die  an  owld  maid. 


3G0 


POETICAL    WORKS  of  SAM  UAL   LOYKR. 


ilr 


If 

The  purty  little  sparrows 

Have  neiilier  ploughs  nor  harrows, 

Yet  tiiey  live  at  uisa  and  are  contint, 

Bekaso,  you  see,  they  pay  no  rint. 

They  have  no  care  nor  flusthcrin', 

About  fliggin'  or  industkerin\ 

No  foolish  pride  their  comfort  hurts — 

For  they  cut  the  flax  and  wear  no  shir 

For  wealth  is  an  invintion,  tSic,  <kc. 


in. 


Sure  Nature  clothes  the  hills,  dear, 

Without  any  tailors'  bills,  dear, 

And  the  bees  they  sip  their  sweets,  niv  so'A'l, 

'J'hough  they  never  had  u  sugar  bowl, 

The  dew  it  feeds  the  rose  of  June — 

But  'tis  not  from  a  silver  spoon: 

Then  let  us  patthern  take  from  those, 

The  birds,  and  bees,  and  lovely  rose, 

For  wealth  is  an  invintion,  «S£c.,  &c. 


IV. 

Here's  a  cup  to  you,  my  darlin', 
Tho*  I'm  not  worth  a  farthin', 
I'll  pledge  my  coat  to  drink  your  healtli, 
And  then  I'll  envy  no  man's  wealth; 
For  when  I'm  drunk  I  think  I'm  rich. 
I've  a  feather  bed  in  every  ditch, 
I  dlirame  o'  you,  my  heart's  delight. 
And  how  could  1  pass  a  pleasanter  night  ) 
Vuf  weallii  is  an  invintion,  v.to.,  &C. 


K. 


POETICAL    WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEIL 


361 


OHI  WATCH    YOU    WELL    BY    DAYLIGHT. 


I. 

Oh  watch  you  well  by  daylight, 

By  daylight  may  you  fear, 
Bat  keep  no  watch  in  darkness — 

The  angels  then  are  near : 
For  Heaven  the  sense  bestoweth, 

Our  waking  life  to  keep, 
But  tender  mercy  showeth, 

To  guard  us  in  our  sleep. 
Then  watch  you  well  by  daylight, 

By  daylight  may  you  fear, 
But  keep  no  waich  in  darkness 

The  angels  then  are  near. 


II. 

Oh  watch  you  well  in  pleasure- 

For  pleasure  oft  betrays, 
But  keep  no  watch  in  sorrow, 

When  joy  withdraws  its  rays: 
For  in  the  hour  of  sorrow, 

As  in  the  darkness  drear. 
To  Heaven  entrust  the  morrow. 

For  the  angels  then  are  near. 
Oil  watch  you  well  by  daylight, 

By  daylight  may  you  fear, 
Jut  keep  no  watch  in  darkness— 

'I'luj  angels  then  are  n<?ar. 


802  POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAilVKL  LOVKIi. 


FORGIVE    BUT    DON'T    FORGET. 


I. 

I'm  going,  Jessie,  fur  irutu  thef, 
To  distant  lands  beyond  the  sea  ; 
I  would  not,  Jessie,  leave  thee  now, 
Witij  anger's  cloud  upon  thy  brow. 
Remember  that  tiiy  mirtl)ful  friend 
Might  sometimes  ;jj«jzp,  but  ne'er  offend  ; 
That  mirthful  friend  is  sad  the  while, 
Oil,  Jessii',  give  a  parting  smile. 

11. 

Ail !  why  should  friendship  harshly  chide 
Our  little  faults  on  either  side  ? 
From  friends  we  love  we  bear  with  those, 
As  thorns  are  pardon'd  for  the  rose  : — 
The  honey  bee,  on  busy  wing, 
Producing  sweets — yet  bears  a  sting — 
The  purest  gold  most  needs  alloy, 
And  sorrow  is  the  nurse  of  joy. 


I 


Mil 


III. 

Then  oh  f  forgive  me,  ere  I  part, 
And  if  some  corner  in  thy  heart 
For  absent  friend  a  place  might  be, 
Ah  !  keep  that  little  place  for  me  ! — 
"  Forgive — Forgot  "  we're  wisely  told, 
Is  heiii  a  maxim  good  and  old, 
But  half  the  maxim's  better  vet. 
Then,  o\\,  forgive  but  donH  f)rget! 


FOKTICM   WOIIKS  OF  i^AMVKL   LOVKU. 


363 


WHISPER    LOW  I 


I. 


In  days  of  old,  when  first  I  told 

A  tale  so  bold,  my  love,  to  tliec, 
In  fait'ring  voice  1  sought  t!iy  choice, 

And  did  rejoice  thy  blush  to  t^ee  ; 
With  downcast  eyes,  thou  ],eard.st  niv  sigha, 

And  hope  reveal'd  her  dawn  to  ni«, 
As  soft  and  slow,  with  passion's  glow, 

I  whisper'd  low  n^y  love  to  thee. 


II 


II. 

Tiie  cannon  loud,  iu  deadly  breach, 
^   May  thunder  on  the  shrinking  foe  j 
'Tis  anger  is  but  loud  of  speech— . 

The  voice  of  love  is  soft  and  low. 
The  tempest's  shout,  the  battle's  rout, 

Make  havoc  wild  ,-'e  weep  to  see  ; 
But  summer  wind,  mu  iViends  M-hon'kind, 

All  whisper  low,  as  I  to  thee. 


lii. 


Now  gallants  gay  in  pride  of  youth, 
^  fay,  would  you  win  the  fair  one's  ear, 
Your  votive  pray'r  be  short,  and  sooth. 
And  whisper  low,  and  she  loill  hear. 
The  matin  bell  niav  1 


ay  iouiiiy  ftii 


The  bridal  morn,  when  all 
But  at  the  time  of  vesper  chi 


niav  hear; 


ntc 


Oh 


1  whisper  low  in  beauty's  rar. 


36i 


rOETICAL    WOUKS  OF  SAM  UK  n   l.OVEU, 


THE    LOVV-BACKED    CAR. 


I. 

When  first  I  saw  sweet  Peggy, 

'Twas  on  a  market  day, 

A  low-backed  car  she  drove,  and  sat 

Upon  a  truss  of  hay  ; 

But  wlien  that  hay  was  blooming  grass, 

And  deck'd  with  flowers  of  spring. 

No  flower  was  tlioro 

That  could  compare 

To  the  blooming  girl  I  sing. 

As  she  sat  in  her  low-backed  car, 
The  man  at  the  turnpike  bar. 

Never  asked  for  the  toll — 

But  just  rubb'd  his  owld  poll. 

And  lookVl  after  the  low-backed  car! 


II. 


In  battle's  wild  commotion, 

The  proud  and  niightv  Mars 

With  hostile  scythes  demands  his  tythes 

Of  Death,  in  warlike  cars! 


POK'JKJAL    WORKS   OF  S.\MUFI.    J.oVKIi. 

But  Pcg^y— peaceful  goddess, 

Has  darts  in  lier  bright  eye, 

Tliut  knock  men  down, 

In  the  market  town, 

As  riglit  and  left  they  fly ! 

While  siie  sits  in  her  low-backed  cai, 
Than  battle  more  dan,  •.  -»us  far. 

For  the  doctor's  art 

Cannot  cure  the  heart 

That  is  hit  from  tiiat  low-backcd  car. 


Uo 


in. 

Sweet  Peggy  round  her  car,  sir, 

Has  strings  of  ducks  and  geese. 

But  the  scores  of  hearts  she  slaughters, 

By  far  outnumber  these  ; 

While  siie  among  her  poultry  sits, 

Just  like  a  turtle  dove, 

Well  worth  the  cage, 

I  do  enfrajje 

Of  the  blooming  God  of  Love. 

While  she  sits  in  her  low-backed  car, 
The  lovers  come  near  and  far, 

And  envy  the  chicken 

That  Peggy  is  pickin' 

While  she  sits  in  the  low-backed  car. 


iii 


IV. 

I'd  rather  own  that  car,  sir. 

With  Peggy  by  my  side, 

Than  a  coi.ch  and  four,  and  gold  galore* 

And  a  ladv  for  inv  hn'rlo  • 

•  Plenty. 


3(J« 


I  m 


ro/niVAL  wouKs  of  samljj,  /.or/.v/. 

For  tliu  lady  would  sh  fornhist*  mo, 
On  a  cushion,  made  with  tdste, 
While  IVnr'TV  would  be  beside  ine, 
With  my  arm  arounfl  iier  waist. 

As  we  drove  in  the  Iow.buck(  d  car 
'I'o  bo  married  by  Father  Maher. 
Oh  my  heart  would  beat  high, 
At  her  glance  and  her  siHi. 

The'  it  bent  in  a  low-backed  car. 


•»»»- 


THE     ROVAL    DREAM. 


I. 


Upon  a  couch  of  royal  state  A  LADY  fair  reposed, 

And  wrapt   in    pleasing  r;.,u,ns   bright   her   soft   blue  eve   was 

closed. 
And,  in  that  dream  so  bea.'tiii;;,  a  mountaiti  sprite  was  seen 
Whose  brow  was  circled  wi:h  a  wreath  of  triple  leaves  so  green 
1  hen  sar.g  the  sprite,  -  Oh  !  LADY  bright !  why  seek  a  foreign 

shore,  ^ 

And    leave,    unseen,    thine   island    green,   where    loyal    hearts 
adore  ? 


Oh  !  you  never  mot  such  welcome  yet— ne'er 
smile, 


)r  saw  such  sunny 

A«  will  greet  fiiee  on  tliy  landinij  in  thine  own  R-nerald  Isle." 

•  Uefore. 


rtf 


I'ol  I       I  /.     •  vy.A-    oy      (  Mri-r    /     ,  ,,/,. 


8tf7 


Ami  us  Til  10  'LADY  dreamed,  biic  siniled,  uiid,  waking,  spoke 

Ikm'  Miiiid — 
'•  I'rcpuro  my  bravest  ships  ,     J  spread  tlieir  white  wings  to  the 

wind, 
And  bear  mc  to  the  verdant     !«»  tho  spirit  showed  to  ine, 
Tiie  fairest  spoi  I  yet  have  seen  within  my  subject  sea." 
The  fav'ring  gale  sodu  /illod  tlio  sail— the  brave  sliips  make  the 

shore — 
A  fair\-  bark  then  seeks  the  strand,  amid  the  cannons'  roar  : 
And  her   banner     liiter'd   in   the  sun — for  Heaven    itself  did 

smilf, 
On  the  landing  of  Til  Li  LADY,  in  her  own  Emerald  I 


eye   wag 


seen 


so  green, 
a  foreign 


III. 

But  THE  LADY  hoars  the  million-shout  above  the  cannon** 

roar, 
f  hdt  thunder-burst  of  I       !  hearts  along  the  echoing  shore  ! 
And  her  noble  heart  it  v        -d  too — and  thus  did  echo  say, 
"  I  ne'er  so  proudly  felt  my  power  as  on  this  glorious  day  !'' 
It  was  a  glorious  day  indeed — fond  bosoms  beating  high — 
A  blessing  imng  on  ev'ry  tongue— devotion  lit  each  eye. 
Oh  !  brigiitest  day  of  all  her  sway,  the  day  she  won  the  smile 
That  did  greet  TIIE  LADY,  landing  in  her  own  Emeral.l  Isle  ! 


^1   hearts 
di  simny 
Isle." 


t      :.' 


1 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

^ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2l 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


1^ 

m 


2.8 

114  0 


1.4 


12.5 
2.2 

ZO 
1.8 


1.6 


^     APPLIED  IM^GE 


S-.         1653   East   Main   Slreel 

~-=         Rochester.    New   York         14609       USA 


H?  -  nino  -  Pho 


3<;8 


i'OKTlCAL    WOIiKS  OF  SAMVKh   LnVEIi. 


THEllIO'S    NO    SUCil    GIRL    AS    MINE. 


I. 


On  there's  no  such  girl  as  mine 

In  all  the  wide  world  round ; 
With  hRr  hair  of  golden  twine, 

And  her  voice  of  silver  sound. 
Her  eyes  arc  as  black  as  the  sloes, 

And  quick  is  lier  ear  so  lino, 
And  her  breath  is  as  sweet  as  the  rose, 

There's  no  ,snoh  <riil  as  iriine  ! 


II. 

Iler  spirit  so  sweetly  flows, 

Unconscious  v/inner  of  hearts, 
There's  a  smile  whor.vcr  she  froes, 

There's  a  sigh  whenever  she  part*; 
A  blessing  she  wins  from  the  poor. 

To  court  her  the  rich  all  incline, 
She's  welcome  at  every  door — 

O  thoic's  no  such  girl  as  mine  ! 


III. 

She's  light  to  the  banquet  hall, 

She's  balm  to  the  couch  of  care, 
In  sorrow — in  mirth — in  all — 

She  takes  her  own  sweet  share. 
Enchanting  the  many  abroad, 

At  home  doth  she  brightest  shine, 
'Twere  endless  her  worth  to  laud 

There's  no  such  girl  as  ,iiino! 


POETICAL    WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEJi. 


3G9 


THE    VOICE    WITHIN. 


I. 

You  ask  the  dearest  place  on  earth, 

V/hose  simolc  joys  can  never  die  ; 
'Tis  the  holy  pale  of  the  happy  hearth, 
Where  love  dolh  light  each  heaming  eye  ' 
With  snowy  shroud 
Let  tempests  loud 

Around  my  old  tower  raise  tiielr  din; 

What  boots  tl)e  sliout 
or  storms  without, 
VVhile  voices  resound  within? 
O !  dearer  sound 
For  the  tempest  round, 
The  voices  sweet  within  ! 


It. 


1  ask  not  wealth,  I  ask  not  power ; 

But,  gracious  Heaven,  oh,  grant  to  me 
That,  when  the  storms  of  Fate  may  lower, 
My  heart  just  like  my  home  may  be  ! 
When  in  the  galo 
Poor  Hope's  white  sail 
No  haven  can  for  shelter  win, 
Fate's  darkest  skies 
The  h->art  defies 
Whose  still  small  voice  is  sweet  witiiin  ! 
Oh  heavenly  sound  I 
'Mid  the  tempest  round, 
'I'lm   voice  so  sweet  within  I 


37u 


roETivM,  noiijin  of  samuel  lovkr. 


WHO    ARE    YOtJ? 


"  Thore  aro  very  Impudent  p-o^lo  in  London,"  s:iid  ;i  country  cousin  of  mine  in  I?:rr 
'As  I  Wiilked  d,.wii  tiie  Str.in.l.  r  fellow  stared  at  ma  and  sknited,  <  Who  are  you  T 
rive  ndnutes  after,  a.u.ther,  p;is.ing  mo,  cried,  '  Flaro  uj.  ;'-l,ut  t  civil  gentleman,  close  to 
his  licel-i,  iiiridly  asked,  '  How  is  vdiir  mother  7  •  " 


"  Who  aro  you  ? — wJk)  arc  you  ? 
Little  boy  that's  running  after 
Every  one  up  and  down, 

Minglinrr  sighing  with  your  laughter?" 
"  I  am  Cupid,  lady  Bt-llo, 

I  am  Cupid  and  no  otlier." 
*'  Little  boy,  then  pr'ythee  tell 

How  is  Venus  ? — How's  your  Mother  ? 
Little  bov,  little  hov, 

I  desire  you  toll  me  true, 
Cupid,  oh  !  you're  alter'd  so, 

No  wonder  I  cry,  WJio  arc  you  ? 

Who  are  vou  ? — who  are  you  ? 
Little  bov,  where  is  your  bow  ? 

You  had  a  bow,  my  little  boy " 

"  So  had  you,  ma'am, — long  ago." 
"  Little  boy,  where  is  your  torch  V 
"  Madam,  I  have  given  it  up: 
Torches  are  no  use  at  all, 
Hearts  will  never  now  fare  up." 


<:ii. 


POETICAL    WoJiKS  OF  HAM V EL  LOVEli. 

«*  Nciuglily  boy,  naughty  Loy, 

.Sucli  words  as  these  I  never  knew  : 
Cupid,  oh  !  you're  alter'd  so, 

No  wonder  I  say,  Who  are  you  V 


371 


\  of  mine  In  1?37 
'  Who  are  you  T 
:enlleman,  close  to 


THE    WIND    AND    THE    WEATHERCOCK, 


The  summer  Wind  lightly  was  playing 
Round  the  battlement  high  of  the  tow'r^ 

Where  a  Vane,  like  a  lady,  was  staying, 
A  lady  vain  perch'd  in  her  bow'r. 

To  peep  round  the  corner  the  sly  Wind  would  try : 

But  vanes,  you  know,  never  look  in  the  wind's  eye  ; 
And  so  she  kept  turning  shily  away  : — 
Thus  they  kept  playing  all  through  the  day. 

The  summer  Wind  said,  «<  She's  coquetting  ;" 
But  each  belle  has  her  points  to  be  found  : 

Before  evening,  I'll  venture  on  betting, 
She  will  not  then  go  but  come  round  ! 

So  he  tried  from  the  east  and  he  tried  from  the  west, 

And  the  north  and  the  south,  to  try  which  was  best  •- 
But  still  she  kept  turning  shily  away  : — 
Thus  they  kept  playing  all  through  the  day. 

•  From  \\\c  tiovol  of  Kpry  O'More 


872 


rOK'JJCil,    noL-hS   OF  SAMUKl.   I.OVEU, 


^ 


At  evening,  lior  hard  huarl  to  soiton, 

lie  suid,  "You're  a  flirt,  I  am  sure  ; 
But  if  vainly  you're  ciianying  so  often, 

No  lover  you'll  over  secure." 
"  Sweet  sir,"  said  the  Vane,  "  it  is  you  who  begin. 
When  you  change  so  often,  in  mc  'tis  no  sin ; 

If  you  cease  to  flutter,  and  steadily  si<rh. 

And  only  be  constant— I'm  sure  so  will  I." 


THE    STAR    <)1'    THE    DEKEKT. 


/n  the  depths  of  the  Desert,  when  lonely  and  drear 
The  sands  round  the  desolate  traveller  appear. 
The  splendor  of  day  gives  no  aid  to  his  path, 
For  land-mark,  nor  compass,  the  traveller  hath. 
But  whon  nii^ht  sheds  hor  shadow  and  coolness  around, 
Then  hark  !  how  the  bolls  of  the  camels  resound  ; 
For  the  trav'ler  is  up  when  the  Star  sheds  its  ray, 
'Tis  the  light  of  his  hope,  'tis  tho  guide  of  his  way. 

And  what  is  this  world  but  a  wilderness  vast  ? 
Where  few  leave  a  trace  o'er  the  waste  they  have  pass'd, 
And  many  are  lost  in  their  noon-day  of  pride, 
That  shines  forth  to  dazzle — but  seldom  to  guide. 
Oh,  blest  is  the  fate  of  the  one  who  hath  luund 
Some  load-star  to  guide  thro'  the  wilderness  round ; 
And  such  have  1  found,  my  bclov'd  one,  in  thee — 
For  thou  art  the  Star  of  the  Desert  to  me  ! 


EH. 


POKTK.'M,    \Vt)JU\S  OF  SAML'KL   1.0  VKU. 


373 


egin. 


T. 


ST.     KEVIN:    A    LEGEND    OF    <J  LEND  ALO  U  Gil 


drear 


ih. 

:js  nround, 
und  ; 
rav, 
?  Wiiy. 


have  pass'd, 

ide. 
d 

ound ; 
ee — 


I. 

At  Glendulough  lived  a  young  saii)t, 

In  odor  of  sanctity  dwelling, 
All  old-Aialiion'd  odor,  wliicii  now 

We  seldom  or  never  are  smellinir: 
A  book  or  a  liook  were  to  liiiii 

The  utmost  extent  of  liis  wishes ; 
Now,  a  snatch  at  the  *«  lives  of  the  saints," 

Then,  a  catch  at  the  lives  of  the  fishes. 

11. 

There  was  a  young  woman  one  day, 

&7rrtra^m'*along  by  the  lake,  sir, 
She  looked  hard  at  St.  Kevin,  they  say, 

But  St.  Kevin  no  notice  did  take,  sir. 
When  she  found  looking  hard  wouldn't  do, 

She  look'd  soft— in  the  old  sheep's-eye  fashion; 
But,  with  all  her  sheep's  eyes,  she  could  not 

In  St.  Kevin  see  signs  of  soft  passion. 
*.''aanterin'r 


:|i 


I 


H 


4- 
•  s 


874 


I'OLTJCM.    iVoJCKS  al''  SAM II: I.   l.oVKli. 


III. 
«'  You're  a  great  liaiid  at  fisliing,"  says  Kate, 

"  'Tis  you..  If  that  knovvs  l.ow,  faith,  to  hook  them, 
But,  uiipii  you  have  caught  them,  agra, 
^  Don't  you  waut  a  young  woman  to  cook  them  ?" 
Says  tho  saint,  "  I  am  '  suiirmis  inclined,' 
1  intend  taking  orders  (or  life,  dear." 
"  Only  marry,"  says  Kate,  "  and  you'll  find 

Vou'll  grt  onl.M->  rnougli  from  your  wife,  dear." 

IV. 

"  You  .shall  never  !>.<  ['w.sh  of  my  flesh," 

Says  the  saint,  with  an  anchorite  groan,  sir; 
"I  see  that,  myscU;"  answer'd  Kate, 
"  I  can  only  bo  '  l),)!i.;  of  your  bone,'  sir, 
And  even  your  b-jiics  ar.'  sj  scarce." 

Said  Miss  Kate,  at  her  answers  so  glib,  sir  • 
"  That,  I  think  you  wouM  n<>\  I,.;  the  worse 
Of  a  little  additional  rib,  sir."' 


V. 


The  saint,  in  a  rago,  seized  the  lass, 

He  gave  her  one  twirl  round  his  head,  sir, 
And,  befbrc  Doctor  Arnott's  invention, 

Flung  Kate  on  a  watery  bed,  sir. 
Oh  !— cruel  St.  Kevin  !— for  shame  ! 

When  a  lady  her  heart  came  to  barter, 
You  should  not  have  been  Knight  of  the  Bath, 

But  have  bowed  to  the  order  of  Garter. 


rOKTlUM.    Willi  US   OF  SAMUKL   J.OVfufi, 


375 


,.  i» 


MOTHER,    HE'S    GOING   AWAV. 


I. 

Mother. 


Now  what  are  you  crying  for,  Nelly? 

Don't  be  blubbering  there  like  a  fool ; 
Uilh  the  weight  o'  the  grief,  lUith,  I  tell  you 

You'll  break  down  the  throe-legged  stool; 
I  suppose  now  you're  crying  for  Barney, 

But  don't  b'lieve  a  word  that  he'd  sav. 
He  tells  nothing  but  big  lies  and  blarney, 
Sure  you  know  how  he  sarvetl  poor  Kate  Karney. 

Daughter. 
But  Mother  ? — 

Mother. 

On,  bother ! 

Daughter. 

Oh,  mother,  he's  going  away  ! 
And  I  dreamt  th'  other  nitrht 
Of  his  ghost — all  in  lohite  ! 


87C 


fOKTlCAf.    i\n/;As   ny  ,v.|  I//"/. /,    /o]/;/, 


{.Mother.— In  nn  umlrr  tunc. 
The  dirty  blackguard  !) 
J)avf^hlir. 
Oh,  motiicr,  he's  going  nway. 


It 


Mother. 
If  he's  going  away  all  the  bottor,^ 

Blessed  hour  when  he's  out  o'  your  sight } 
Tliere's  one  comfort— you  can't  got  a  letter-* 

For  yiz*  neither  can  read  or  can  write. 
Sure,  'twas  only  last  week  you  protested, 

Since  he  coorted  fat  Jinney  McCray, 
That  the  sight  o'  the  scamp  you  detested, 
With  abuse  sure  your  tongue  never  rested  | 

daughter 
Rut  Mother  ? — 

Mother. 

Oh  bother! 
Daughter. 
Oh,  mother,  he's  going  away! 

{Mother. 

May  he  never  come  back  !) 
And  I  dreamt  of  his  ghost 
Walking  round  my  bed  post— 

Oh,  mother,  lie's  going  away ! 

•Ye. 


\/:tt 


I'Oirjjr.u,     It  MA' A 


'/   •>  1 1//  /  /    /.  /  \  I,/:, 


37' 


r— 


TRUK    LOVE    CAN    NE'ER   FORGET. 


•'  TiwK  love  can  ne'er  Ibrget : 
Fondly  as  wiien  we  met, 
Dearest,  I  love  thee  yet, 

My  darling  one  !" 
Tliussung  a  minstrel  grey 
His  sweet  impassion'd  lay, 
Down  by  tlio  ocean's  spiay, 

At  set  of  sun. 
Bnt  witlier'd  was  the  minstrel's  sight, 
Morn  to  liini  was  dark  as  night, 
Vet  his  heart  was  full  of  li-rht. 
As  he  this  lay  begun  ; 
"  True  love  can  ne'er  forfret, 
Fondly  as  when  we  met, 
Dearest,  I  love  tiieo  yet, 
My  darling  one  ! 


378 


VOKTIL'Al.    WOUh'S  (if  SAMVKI.    /.<>\  /.It. 


"  LonjT  years  are  past  and  o'er, 
Since  from  tliis  fatal  shore, 
Cold  hearts  ami  coM  wimU  boro 

My  lovo  from  inc." 
Scarcely  the  niinstrel  spoke, 
When  quick,  uiih  flashing  stroke, 
A  boat's  light  oar  the  silence  broke 

Over  the  sea ; 
Soon  upon  brr  native  strand 
Doth  A  lovely  lady  land, 
Wliilc  the  minstrel's  love-taught  band 
Did  o'er  his  wild  harp  run  j 
*'  True  love  can  ne'er  (brjret, 
Fondly  a.i  when  we  met, 
Dearest,  1  Invo  thee  yet, 
My  darling  one  !  " 


iJ 


ii' 


Where  the  minstrel  sat  alone, 
There,  that  lady  fair  hatii  gone, 
Within  his  hand  she  placed  her  own, 

The  bard  dropp'd  on  Iiis  knee  ; 
From  his  lip  sol't  blessings  came. 
He  kiss'd   her  Ijaud  w  i;!i  truest  (lame, 
In  trcndiling  tones  he  iiiuried — her  naii 

Tliough  her  ho  cculd  nut  see; 
But  oh  !— the  toiudi  thfl  bard  could  tell 
Of  that  doiw  liaiid.  remcmber'd  well, 
Ah  ! — by  niiiiiy  a  srcrct  spell 

Can  true  love  fiiid  his  own  ! 
For  true  love  can  ne'er  forget, 
Fondly  as  when  they  met; 
He  loved  his  lady  ye  I, 

His  darling  one,  ..„-'... 


I  If 

I'! 


\  /.IL 


rol.ilru.     II  r. //A,.       /    SAMll.i,    l.'m  li. 


il7U 


KITTY    CRKAGH 


I. 

"  Oh  !  toll  nio  now  where  nro  you  going, 

Sweet  Kitty  Creagh  ?" 
"  To  the  glen  where  the  hazels  are  growing 

I'm  taking  my  way." 
"  Tiie  nuts  are  not  ripe  yet,  sweet  Kitty, 

As  yet  we're  but  making  the  hay. 
An  autumn  excuse 
Is  in  summer  no  use, 

Sweet  Kitty  Creagh." 


If 


II. 

"  What.  1^  it  to  you  where  I'm  going, 

Misther  Maguire  ? 
Tlie  twigs  in  the  hazel  /I'lon  growing 

Make  a  good  fire." 
"  The  turf  in  the  bog's  nearer,  Kiitv, 

And  fitter  for  firing,  they  say; 
Don't  think  me  a  goose, 
Faith  I  twig  your  excuse, 

Sly  Kitty  Crea^li." 


180 


l'<>i:rirM.     WuliKS   ny  .<'A.y('K/,    l.OVE 


n. 


III. 


\v 


ero  saving  our  turf  lor  the  ninther, 


Mistlier  Muguire  ; 
And  your  gil)es  and  your  jokes  shall  not  hindher 

Wliat  I  require." 
"Ah,  I  know  why  you're  going  there,  Kitty, 

Not  fire,  but  a  flame  you  should  say 
You  seek  in  the  shade 
Of  the  hazrl  wood  glade — 

Sly  Kitty  Ureagh !" 

IV. 

•'  There's  a  stream  through  that  hazel  wood  flov,ing, 

Sweet  Kitty  Creagh  ; 
Where  J  see,  with  his  fishing  rod  going, 

Phelim  O'Shca; 
'Tis  not  for  the  nuts  you  are  seeking, 

Nor  gath'ring  of  fuel  in  May, 
And  'tis  not  catcliing  trout 
That  young  Phelim's  about — 

Sweet  Kitty  Creagh !" 


POETICAL    WORKS  OF  SAMUEL   LoVEli, 


a8i 


flo  zing, 


RORY     O'MORE, 
GOOD    OMENS. 


I. 

Young  Rory  O'More  courted  Kathaleen  bawn, 

I'     vas  bold  as  a  hawk,  and  slic  soft  as  the  dawn  } 

He  wish'd  in  liis  heart  pretty  Kathleen  to  please, 

A.id  he  thought  the  best  way  to  do  that  was  to  teaze, 

"  Now,  Rory,  be  aisy,"  sweet  Kathleen  would  cry, 

Reproof  on  iier  lip,  but  a  smile  in  her  eye, 

"  With  your  tricks,  I  don't  know,  in  tliroth,  what  I'm  about, 

Faith  you've  teazcd  till  I've  put  on  my  cloak  inside  out." 

"Oh!  jewel,"  says  Rory,  "  that  same  is  the  way 

You've  thrated  iny  heart  for  this  many  a  day. 

And  'tis  plazed  that  I  am,  and  why  not,  to  be  sure  ? 

For  'tis  all  for  good  luck,"  says  bold  Rory  O'More. 

II. 

"  Indeed,  then,"  says  Kathleen,  "  don't  think  of  the  like, 

For  I  half  gave,  a  promise  to  soothering  Mike  ; 

The  ground  that  I  walk  on  he  loves,  I'll  be  bound:" 

»  Faith  !"  says  Rory,  "  I'd  rather  love  you  than  the  ground." 


I 


■m;f 


382  POKTIGAL  WOliKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEU. 

"  Nou-,  Ilory,  rjl  c.y,  ifyou  don't  let  mo  go; 
Sure  I  dream  cv'ry  night  that  I'm  hating  you  so!" 
••Oh  !"  says  Rory,  "  tJ.at  same  I'm  delighted  to  hear, 
1-or  dhramcs  always  go  by  conthrairies,  my  dear. 
Oh  !  jowel,  keep  dhraming  that  same  till  vou  die, 
.\nd  bright  morning  will  give  dirty  night  die  black  lie  ' 
And  'tis  plazed  that  I  am,  and  xvhy  not,  to  be  sure  ? 
Since  'tis  all  for  good  luck,"  says  bold  Rory  O'More 


III. 

"  Arrah,.Kathleen,  my  darlint,  you've  teazed  u;e  enough. 

Sure  I  ve  thrash'd  for  your  sake  Dinny  Grin.es  and  Jim  DuiF: 

And     ve  made  myself,  drinking  your  health,  quite  a  laste, 

So  I  thmk,  alter  that,  I  may  ial/c  to  the  priest  "* 

Then  Rory,  the  rogue,  stole  his  arm  round  her  neck, 

So  soft  and  so  white,  without  freckle  or  speck 

And  he  look'd  in  her  eyes  that  were  beaming'with  light, 

And  he  kiss'd  her  sweet  lips-don't  you  think  he  was  right  ? 

"Now,  Rory,  leave  off,  sir-you'll  hug  me  no  more, 

Ihat  s  eight  times  to-day  you  have  kiss'd  me  before  " 

I*  Then  here  goes  another,"  says  he,  "  to  make  sure, 

tor  there's  luck  in  odd  numbers,"  says  Rory  O'More. 

•  Paddy's  mode  of  asking  a  girl  to  name  the  day . 


VKR. 


POETICAL   WOIiKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEIi. 


383 


f'J 

icar, 


:k  lie ! 

e? 

ore. 


THE    VENETIAN    LOVE    CHASE. 


enough, 

id  Jim  DulF; 

?  a  baste, 


light, 


-> 


ivas  right  ? 
re, 

e, 
are. 


ay. 


A  SEA-NYMPH,  fond  and  fair, 

She  loved  a  gondolier, 

Who  loved  her  songs  to  hear 
Upon  the  stilly  air, 
Over  the  deep  lagune. 
Where  the  niidnight  moon, 
Her  silver  path  display'd  ; 
A  path  for  lovers  made  ; 

But,  ah  f  that  light, 

So  soft  and  bright, 
Is  sometimes  crossed  by  shade. 

But,  lovers — do  not  fear, 

Tho'  the  moon  forsake  the  night, 
For  heaven  hath  other  liKht, 

For  a  faithful  gondolier. 

II. 

And,  niglit  by  night,  more  far, 
The  gondolier  would  stray ; 
Allured  by  that  soft  lay, 

And  lit  by  one  bright  star. 


I 


884 


rOKTICAL    WO  I!  KS   OF  SAM  UK  f.    LOVK 


R, 


Bold. 


r  and  bolder,  he, 


wvj  isea, 


Over  the  sound 

Pursued  tiiat  witcliin:--  f.train 


pain, 


But,  all  !  the  lover's 
When  to  the  .vhore, 
With  Weary  oar, 
He  sadly  turned  again. 

But  still  he  kept  good  cheer, 
"  For  so  lair  a  prize,"  said  he, 
"  I  still  must  bolder  he  !" 
Oh  !  fearless  gondolier. 


III. 

At  length  so  bold  he  grew, 

That,  when  the  storm  would  rise, 
And  raylcss  were  the  skies. 
Across  the  deep  he  flew. 
Seeking  that  syren  sound — 
When  tempests  raged  around, 
He  deadly  dangers  sought  ; 
For,  life  he  held  at  naught, 
Unless  the  charm. 
That  nerv'd  his  arm. 
Love's  sweet  rewardings  brought. 
Oh,  timid  lovers,  hear, 

How  the  blue-eyed  nymph,  at  last. 
For  his  dangers,  bravely  past, 
Blcss'd  her  gallant  gondolier. 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUKI.   LOVKR. 


m> 


MY   NATIVE    TOWN. 


r. 


Wb  have  heard  of  Charybdis  and  Seylla  of  old  ; 
Of  Maelstrom  the  modern  enough  has  been  told ; 
Of  Vesuvius's  blazes  all  travellers  bold 

Have  established  the  bright  renown  : 
But  spite  of  what  ancients  or  moderns  have  said 
Of  whirlpools  so  deep,  or  volcanoes  so  red, 
The  place  of  all  others  on  earth  that  I  dread 

Is  my  beautiful  native  town. 


ml: 


11. 


Where  they  sneer  if  you're  poor,  and  they  snarl  if  you're  rich; 

They  know  every  cut  that  you  mako  in  your  flitch  ; 

If  you/  hose  should  be  darn'd,  they  can  tell  every  s'titch  ; 

And  they  know  when  your  wife  got  a  gown. 
The  old  one,  they  say,  was  made  new?— for  the  brat  ,• 
And  they're  sure  you  love  mice— for  you  can't  keep  a  cat  j 
In  the  hot  flame  of  scandal  how  blazes  the  fat, 

When  it  falls  in  your  own  native  town. 


386 


J'OETKJAL   WoI:KS  ,jF  SAMUEJ.    1.0  VKR. 


If  a  good  stream  of  blood  ciiaiifc  l^  run  in  your  veins, 
They  think  to  renienilj.jr  it  not  worth  {\m'  pains, 
For  losses  of  caste  are  to  th.eni  nil  the  gains. 

So  they  treasure  cai^h  inise  ron."i  r;. 
If  your  mother  sold  apples— your  iaiin-r  his  oath, 
And  was  eropp'd  of  his  ears— yd  you'll  hoar  of  them  both, 
For  loathing  all  low  things  ihoy  never  are  loath, 
.    In  your  virtuous  naiive  town. 


iv. 


If  the  dangerous  heights  of  rotio-.vn  yuu  ;,hould  try 

And  give  all  tl)e  laggards  below  tiie  go-by, 

For  fear  you'd  be  hurt  with  your  climbing  so  high, 

They're  the  first  to  pull  you  down. 
Should  Fame  give  you  wings,  and  you  mount  in  despite, 
They  swear  Fame  is  wrong,  and  that  they're  in  t!ie  right, 
And  reckon  you  //tere—i hough  you're  far  out  of  sight,'' 

Of  the  owls  of  your  native  town. 


V. 


Then  give  me  the  world,  boys  !  that's  open  aua  wide, 

Where  honest  in  purpose  and  honest  in  pride. 

You  are  taken  hr  just  whaf.  you're,  worth  when  you're  tried, 

And  have  paid  your  reckoning  down. 
Your  coin's  not  mistrusted — the  critioal  scale 
Does  not  weigh  ev'ry  piece,  like  a  huxtor  at  sale  ; 
The  jmnt-mark  is  en  ii— although  it  might  fail 

To  pass  hi  your  native  town. 


>  V£I{. 


VOKTIVAL    WvliKS  OF  SAMV^.L  LoVLIt. 


3b7 


•  veins, 


BEAUTY    AM)    TIME. 


tlicm  both, 


espite, 
e  right, 

Ight, 


[tie, 


Time  met  Beauty  one  day  in  Ir.,-  garden, 

Where  roses  were  Lloomiiig  fair; 
Time  and  Beauty  woic  upvor  good  frieuds, 

So  she  uoiidoi-d  what  bicught  liim  there. 
I'oor  Beauty  exclaiui'd,  with  u  sorrowful  nir, 
"I  request,  Father  Time,  rny  sweet  roses  you'il  spare," 
For  Time  was  going  to  mow  thcui  all  dowu, 
While  Beauty  e.vclaim'd,  with  her  prettiest  frown, 

•'  Fie,  Father  Time  !" 

"  Well,"  said  Time,  "  at  least  let  me  gather 

A  few  of  your  roses  liere, 
'Tis  part  of  my  pride,  to  be  always  supplied 
With  such  roses,  the  whole  of  the  year." 
Poor  Beauty  consented,  tho'  half  in  despair  ; 
And  Time,  as  he  went,  ask'd  a  lock  of  her  hair, 
And  as  he  stole  the  soft  ringlet  so  bri-:]it, 
He  vow'd  'twas  for  love,  b.^t  she  Knew  'twas  for  spite. 

Oh  fie,  Father  Time  ! 

Time  went  on— and  left  Beauty  in  tears  ; 

He's  a  tell-tale,  the  world  well  knows, ' 
So  he  boasted  to  all,  of  the  fair  lady's  fa'li. 

And  show'd  the  lost  ringlet  and  rose. 
So  shock'd  was  poor  Beauty  to  fintl  that  her  fame 

Timt  she  droop'd  like  some 
And  her  friends  all 


from  its  clune 


/steriously  said,—''  //  u-as  Time. 
Oh  tip.  Falher  Time  ' 


n 


^0tr^^im.%:^^         ,:^ 


388 


rOLTlCAL    MOUKH  OF  SAMiij.   LoVUi. 


THE    LADY'S    HAND. 


■I 


To  horse  !  lo  liorsc  !  the  trumpet  singly 

'Midst  clanli  of  spear  and  shield  ; 
The  knight  into  his  saddle  springs, 

And  rushes  to  the  licld  j 
A  lady  look'd  from  out  her  bow'r, 

A  stately  knigiit  drew  near, 
And  from  her  snowy  hand  she  dropt 

Her  glove  upon  his  spear  ; 
He  placed  it  on  his  lielmet's  crest 

And  join'd  the  gallant  band  j 
"  The  lady's  glove  but  now  is  mine, 

But  soon  I'll  win  the  hand !" 

Above  the  plunging  tide  of  fight 

Their  plumes  now  dance  like  spray  5 
And  many  a  crest  of  note  and  might 

Bore  proudly  through  the  fray  ; 
But  still  the  little  glove  was  seen 

The  foremost  of  the  band, 
And  deadly  blows  the  fiercest  fell 

From  that  fair  lady's  hand, 
Before  him  every  foeman  fiies  ! 

His  onset  none  can  stand  ! 
M(>re  fatal  e'en  than  lady's  eyes 

Was  that  fair  lady's  hand. 


1  ^^ 


rOKTlVM.    WOUKS  OF  SAMUKL   1.0  VKl:. 

And  now  tlic  trumpet  sounds  retreat, 

The  lb(Mnun  droops  liis  crest; 
Tlie  fight  is  past — ♦fic  sun  lius  set, 

And  uU  have  sunk  to  rest — 
Save  one — wlio  spurs  Ins  panting  steed 

Back  from  the  conquering  band, 
And  he  who  won  the  lady's  glove, 

Now  claims  the  lady's  iiand. 
'Tis  won— 'tis  won  !— that  gallant  knight 

Is  proudest  in  the  land  : — 
Oh  !  what  ca.i  nerve  the  soldier's  arm 

Like  hope  of  lady's  hand  ! 


389 


-♦•♦- 


THE    SOLDIER. 


I. 

'TwAS  a  glorious  day,  worth  a  warrior's  telling, 
Two  kings  hud  fought,  and  the  fight  was  done, 
When  'midst  the  shout  of  victory  swelling, 

A  soldier  fell  on  the  field  he  won. 
He  thought  of  kings  and  of  royal  quarrels. 

And  thought  of  glory  without  a  smile  j 
For  what  iiad  he  to  do  with  laurels  ? 

He  was  only  one  of  the  rank  and  file. 
But  he  pulled  out  his  little  crniskeen* 
And  drank  to  his  pretty  colIeen,-f 
"  Oh  darling !"  says  he,  "  when  I  die 
You  won't  be  a  widow — for  why  ? — 
Ah!  you  never  would  have  me,  vourneen."X 


I 


.*. 


fc 


'  A  dram-bottle. 


t  Girl. 


f  A  term  of  endearzneat 


»90 


POK'l'WM.    WOliKS  oy  S.\Mii:i.    I.OVKlt. 


II. 

A  raven  tress  from  his  bosom  talu.i<:, 

That  now  was  stuincil  with  his  liib  stream  shed; 
A  fervent  prayer  o'er  that  rin-hn  mu|<in,iT, 

Ho  blessings  souglit  on  the  h)vo.i  one's'head. 
And  visions  fair  of  his  native  mountains 

Arose,  onchantin-,'  liis  fading  sight ; 
Their  emerald  valleys  and  cry^starfmmfains 

Were  never  shining  more  green  and  bright ; 
And  grasping  Ids  little  cruiskeon, 
lie  pledged  the  dear  Island  of  Green  ;— 
"Though  fur  from  thy  val"  ^ys  I  die. 

Dearest  isle,  to  my  heart  thou  art  nigh, 
As  though  absent  I  never  liad  been."  " 


III. 

A  tear  now  fell— for  as  life  was  sinking, 
The  pride  that  guarded  his  manly  eye 
Was  weaker  grown,  and  his  last  fond  thinking 

I3roi,ght  heaven  and  homo,  and  his  true  Jov^e,  nigh 
Cut  with  the  fire  of  his  gallant  nation. 

He  scorn'd  surrender  without  a  blow  !~ 
He  made  with  Death  capitulation, 

And  with  warlike  honors  ho  still  would  go; 
For  draining  his  little  cruiskecn, 
He  drank  to  his  cruel  colleen, 

To  the  emerald  land  of  his  birth— 
And  lifeless  he  sank  to  the  earth, 
Brave  a  soldier  as  over  was  seen ! 


POUnCAL    WaliKH  OF  SAMUEL  hOVKIl. 


aui 


OUR    OWN    WHITE    CLIFF. 


1. 


The  boat  tlmi  lou  yori  vessel's  side, 

Swift  as  tlie  soa-binl's  wing, 
Doth  skim  across  tiio  sparkling  tido 

Likp  an  enchanted  thing! 
Encliantnicnf,  there,  may  bear  a  part, 

Her  might  is  in  each  oar, 
For  love  inspires  eacii  island  heart 

That  nears  its  native  siiore. 
And  as  they  gaily  sj)eed  along. 
The  breeze  before  tliem  bears  their  song: 
**  Uh,  merrily  row,  boys — merrily  ! 
Bend  the  oar  to  the  bounding  skifl*, 
Of  every  shore 
Wide  ocean  o'er. 
There's  n'^ne  like  our  own  white  cliff!" 


I 


11. 

Through  sparkling  loom  they  bound — they  dart- 

Thc  mucii-loved  shore  they  nigh — 
With  deeper  panting  beats  each  heart. 

More  brigiitly  beams  each  eye  ! 
As  on  the  crowded  strand  they  seek 

Homo  v.'oll. known  form  to  trace, 
In  iiopcs  to  meet  some  blushing  cheek, 

Or  wife,  or  child's  embrace; 


■••tJ 


w^^h 


398 


fOETWAL    WOliKH   Of   ,^A.yuKL  J.UVKR. 

The  oar  the  spray  now  fast.r  /lings, 
More  gaily  yot  eucl.  scuituui  sings : 

"Ol,.  ,nn-rily  row,  boys— niorrily ! 
iifiid  ilie  o,ir  lo  tli«  bounding  skilF, 
01"  every  slioro, 
Widn  ocean  o'er, 
There's  none  like  our  own  white  cli/T!" 


■»»» 


WARY    I\JA    CIIREE. 


I. 


Thb  flower  of  the  valley  was  Mary  ma  chree, 
Her  snules  all  bewitching  were  lovely  to  see 
The  bees  round  her  hurnnnng,  when  summer  was  gone, 
When  the  roses  were  fled-n.ight  take  her  lip  for  one. 
Her  laugh  it  was  music- her  breath  it  was  balm  • 
Her  heart   like  the  lake,  was  as  pure  and  as  calm! 
Till  love  o  or  it  came,  like  a  breeze  o'er  the  sea 
And  made  the  heart  heave  of  sweet  Mary  ma  chree 


II. 

She  loved-and  she  wept :  i;>r  was  gladness  e'er  known 
To  dwell  ,n  the  bosom  that  Lovo  makes  his  own  ? 
H.s  joys  are  but  moments-his  griefs  are  for  years, 
He  comes  all  in  sn.iles-but  he  leaves  all  in  tears. 
Her  lover  was  gone  to  a  far  distant  land, 
And  Mary   in  sudnos..  w  .nld  pace  the  lone  strand, 
^ndtearWiy^,..,-    ,       ,  dark  roumg  sea, 
rhnt  parted  her  sokiior  from  Mary  ma  ehrre. 


0  VKH. 


POKIWM.    WUUKS  OF  HAMUKl.   I.UYKIl. 


in 


ily! 
skiir, 


ite  clifT!" 


THE    ROAD    OF    LIFK  : 

OR,     SONG     OF    TH;       IKIsiI     fOST-BOT 


r  wus  gone, 
p  for  one. 
>alm ; 
calm, 
sea, 
chree. 


Oh  !  youth,  happy  youth  !  what  n  blessing  ! 

In  thy  fres    -ciss  o!  dawn  and  of  dew  ; 
VViien  hope,  the  youi  '.r  heart  is  caressing, 

And  our  griefs  are    lU  light  niul  but  few; 
Yet  in  life,  as  it  swiltl     (lies  o'er  us, 

Some  musing  for  sadi  i  ss  we  find; 
In  youth — we've  our  troubles  before  us, 

In  age — we  leave  pleasure  behind. 


'er  known 
vn  ? 
y'cars, 
?ars. 

and . 


n.  • 

Aye — Trouble's  the  post-bny  that  drives  us 

Up  hill,  till  we  get  to  the    op ; 
While  Joy's  an  old  servant      hind  us 

We  call  on  fjr  ever  to  sto    ; 
"  Oh,  put  on  the  drag,  Joy,  my    owel, 

As  long  as  the  suiisul  siili  t  ows  ; 
Before  it  is  dark  'twould  be  crael. 

To  haste  to  the  hill-foot's  repose. 


9\H 


POKTIVAI.    WO'.tKS  OF  HAM Ui: I.    .'.OVhn. 


Hi. 


But  there  slaml.s  lui  iim  \v(;  musl  stoj)  at, 

An  extiiigui.slier  s\viti<;.s  (or  the  sign  ; 
That  hou.sc  is  but  cold  aiul  but  narrow, 

But  the  prospect  boyonil  it's  divine  ! 
And  there — vvhcncc  there's  never  returnin'>-. 

When  wo  travel — as  travel  we  must; 
May  the  gales  be  all  free  for  our  journey ! 

And  the  tears  of  our  friends  lay  the  dust  I 


WHAT    WILL    YOU    DO.    LOVE  7 


I. 

*  What  will  you  do,  love,  when  I  am  going 
With  white  sail  flowing, 

The  seas  beyond — 
What  will  you  do,  love,  when  waves  divide  us 
And  friends  may  chide  us 

For  being  fond  ?" 
"  Tho'  waves  divide  us— and  friends  be  chiding, 
in  fliith  abiding, 

I'll  still  be  true  ! 
And  I'll  pray  fiir  tlsco  on  the  stormy  ocean, 
In  deep  devotion — 

That's  what  I'll  do!" 


rOETlVAL   WORKS  OF  HAMUKI.   LOVKU. 

II. 

♦*  What  would  you  (Jo,  love,  if  distant  tidings 
Thy  fond  coufidings 

Should  undermine?-- 
And  I,  abidia;:;  'neath  sultry  .      ■-, 
Should  think  olhor  eyes 

Wore  as  hri-'l^t  as  ihino?" — 
*•'  Oh,  name  it  not  I — Tho'  guilt  and  shame 
Were  on  thy  name 

I'd  still  he  true  : 
But  that  heart  of  thine — should  another  share  it- 
I  could  not  hear  it ! 

What  would  I  do?" 

in. 

"  What  would  you  do,  love,  when  home  returning 
With  hopes  high  burning, 

With  wealth  for  you, 
If  my  hark,  which  hounded  o'er  foreign  fbnm 
Should  he  lost  near  lionic — 

Ah  !  what  wo:ild  you  do?" — 
«•  So  thou  wert  spared — I'tl  bless  the  morrow, 
In  want  and  sorrow. 

That  left  nie  you  j 
And  I'd  welcome  thee  from  tlie  wasting  billow, 
This  heart  thy  pillow — 

That's  what  I'd  do !" 


305 


i  n 


r'tinUM.    Wonss   <'F  SAMCtt.    LOVJUtL 


Tin:    DllEAMEK. 


"  Dreajmlng — (ireiiming — dreaming ! — 

Dreampr,  what  (Ireamest  thou  ?" 
"  1  dfearn  of  a  lovely  valley, 
1  dream  of  a  mf)uii{ain  brow, 
I  dream  of  a  muuldering  ruin, 

I  dream  of  a  turret  tall, 
And  I  dream  of  the  verdant  ivv 
That  clings  to  that  castle  wall  ; 
And  I  think  as  I  gaze 
Through  fancy's  haze. 

Of  a  fairy  fiand,  so  fair, 
That  pluck'd  the  bright  leaf 
In  an  hour — too  brief, 

And  wreathed  it  in  her  dark  hair,»* 


II. 

**  Dreaming — dreaming — drcamin»  ! — 

Dreamer,  awake,  and  rise  ! 
For  sparkling  tilings  are  round  thee 

To  win  for  thine  own  bright  prize. 
Of  the  past  there  is  no  returning, 

The  future  uncertain  gleam^. 
Be  tiiine,  then,  the  joys  of  the  present, 

Away  with  thv  bardic  dreams  !" 


ft. 


rOKTlVAl.    W'oMK'^   "F  SAMLh'L    i.oVMti. 

'•No — tlie  di'eam  is  more  sweet 
Of  tlioso  hours — too  fleet, 

VV' lieu  tluU  fairy  liaud  .so  fuir, 
Did  |)luciv  the  brii/ht  fluw'i" 
Froiu  tier  owu  sweet  Uoh't, 

To  wreathe  in  the  rav(  ii  hair." 


8»7 


LOVE    AND    HOME    AND    NATIVE    LAND. 


When  o'er  the  silent  deep  we  rove, 

More  fondly  then  our  though/..:,  will  stray 
To  those  we  leave — to  those  we  love, 

Whose  prayers  pursue  our  watery  '.vay. 
When  in  the  lonely  midnight  hour 

The  sailor  takes  his  watchful  stand, 
His  heart  then  feels  the  holiest  power 

Of  love,  and  home,  and  native  land. 

11. 

In  vain  may  tropic  climes  display 

Their  glittering  shores — their  gorgeous  shells  ; 
Though  bright  birds  wing  their  dazzling  way, 

And  glorious  flowers  adorn  the  dells  ; 
Though  nature  there  prolific,  pours 

The  treasures  of  her  magic  hand. 
The  eye — but  not  the  heart,  adores : 

The  heart  still  beats  for  native  land. 


398 


VOKTIVAL    WOUKS   OF  HAMUKL  LOVJCIU 


TEA-TABLE     TACTICS. 


I. 


Thev  tnay  talk  of  the  ruin 
Tiiat  Bacchus  is  brewiu'r, 
But  if  my  advice  a  youn/r  soldier  would  ask,  sir, 
I  would  suy  that  llio  liiccups 
Arc  Slier  than  toa-cups  ; 
So  beware  of  iiu>.  ckcuncr,  and  sticdv  to  your  iia.sk,  sir. 
Had  I  stood  to  my  how]. 
Like  a  gay  jovi,;l  sirui, 
By  this  time  I  mi-rht  he  a  gnicral  olncfr, 
But  I  dallied  witli  Silly, 
And  Betty,  and  Ally, 
And  lost  all  my  time  with  their  hi,,  and  their  cofTee,  sir  — 
Oh  !  tay  is  a  dangerous  drink, 
When  the  lady  that  makes  it's  a  beauty ; 
With  her  fingers  so  nnle 
She  presents  you  ii  plate. 
And  to  cut  bread  and  butter  she  puts  you  on  duty ; 
Then  she  pouts  her  bright  lips. 
Wiiile  tile  Congou  she  sios, 
And  her  sweet  mouth  some  question  dcmandin-r, 
^        Puts  your  heart  beyond  all  self-comrnnndina ;  " 
rhrough  the  steam  of  tlie  tea-pot  her  eyes  shine  like  sta,-^ 
And  Vfnus  again  rnakfi^  a  eonque5;t  of  Mars. 


fiiK'tH'M.    WdlihiS   OF  SAMUKI.   LOVKIi. 


zm 


n, 

Wlic'ii  I  entered  flio  iiriny, 
At  firsi  it  did  eliarm  me  ; 
Says  I,  "  by  iSt.  Patrick,  1  11  yet  live  in  story; 

Wi..  li  wnr  is  unnouneed — " 
But  a  petticoiit  llniniced, 

With  a  nate  Lit  o'  hice,  it  ensnared  me  from  glory. 

Had  I  mounted  tlie  lireacli, 

Glory's  lesson  to  teach, 
I  might  have  escaped,  and  a  pension  he  paying  me ; 

Instead  of  .soft  fully 

With  Nanny  or  Molly, 
Which  bound  me,  like  Sampson,  while  Cupid  was  slpyiug  rne. 

Oil !  lay  is  a  dangerous  drink,  «Sic.,  «Sec. 


ir. 


-♦♦♦-^ 


THEY    SAY    MY    SONGS    ARE    ALL    THE    SAME 


,  sir- 


ity; 


stai-s. 


They  say  my  songs  are  all  the  same, 
Because  1  only  sing  of  thee  : 

Then  be  it  so — and  let  them  blame — 
Such  thoughts  are  dearer  far  to  me 

Than  all  the  voice  of  Fame  ! 

Let  plaudits  ring  and  fame  rejjly, 
Ah — sweeter  far  thy  gentle  sigh  ! 
Lrt  critics  frown — i  laugh  the  while — 
What  critic's  frown  is  worth  thy  smile  ? 
They  say,  &c.,  cVe. 


f|!Pi 


i(Hi 


Poor  critic  I-had'st  thou  ln,t  the  chance 
To  win  my  Sfelh.'s  dazzling  ghuice, 
When  v.jtive  Mreuth  of  song  I  twine, 
To  hiy  on  love's  immortal  shrine. 
Could'st  tliou  but  see  the  mantling  blush 
Rewarding  passion's  lay, 
Thou  would'st  not  bid  me  nay- 
Then,  loveless  critic,  hush! 
They  say,  ^c,  dec. 


Go,  blame  the  rose's  lovely  hue. 
Blame  the  bright  sky  for  being  blue, 
Blame  time  when  made  of  hap^piest  hours, 
Blame  perfume  shed  from  sweetest  flow'rs. 
And  then  blame  me  for  being  fond 
Of  something,  all  these  sweet's  beyond  !— 
Then  be  my  songs  all  still  the  so.me, 

For  I  will  always  sing  of  thee. 
Thus  be  it  so— and  let  them  blame- 
Such  thoughts  are  dearer  far  to  mo 
Than  all  the  voice  of  fame ! 


POETICAL    Wol.'KS  OF  SAMVKL   LOYKlt. 


401 


DERMOT    O'DOVVi). 


When  Dermot  O'Dowtl  coorted  Molly  M'C;m, 

They  were  sweet  as  the  honey  and  soft  ns  the  down, 
But  when  they  were  wed  they  began  to  find  out 

That  Dermot  could  storm  and  tiiat  Molly  could  frown  ; 
They  would  neither  give  in — so  the  neighbors  gave  out — 

Both  were  hot,  till  a  coldness  came  •  vor  the  two, 
And  Molly  would  flusiher,  and  Dermot  would  blusther, 
Stamp  holes  in  the  flu  re,  and  cry  out  "  wirrasthru ! 
Oh  murther!  I'm  married, 
I  wish  I  had  tarried  ; 
I'm  sleepless  and  speechless — no  word  can  I  say, 
My  bed  is  no  use, 
I'll  give  back  to  the  goose 
The  feathers  I  plucked  on  last  Michaelmas  day." 

"  Ah  !"  says  Molly,  "  you  once  used  to  call  me  a  bird." 

"  Faix,  you're  ready  enough  still  to  fly  out,"  says  he. 
"You  said  then  my  eyes  were  as  bright  as  the  skies. 

And  my  lips  like  the  rose — now  no  longer  like  me." 
Says  Dermot,  "  your  eyes  are  as  bright  as  the  morn, 

But  your  brow  is  as  black  as  a  big  thunder  cloud, 
If  your  lip  is  a  rose — sure  your  tongue  is  a  thorn 

Th.at  sticks  ill  the  heart  of  poor  Dermot  O'Dowd." 
Says  Molly,  "  you  once  said  my  voice  was  a  thrush, 

But  now  it's  a  rusty  ould  hlngo  with  a  creak;" 


Hi 


II' 


102 


POKTWAL    WUUKH  Oh'  8AMUKL   UJVKIL 


Says  Dermot,  «  you  cull'd  me  a  duck  vvlien  I  coort(>d, 
But  now  I'm  a  goose  every  day  in  ilm  week. 

BuUill  lui.slninds  are  goose,  tiiough  our  pride  it  may  shock, 
From  the  first  'twas  ordained  so  by  Nature,  I  fear, 

Ould  Adam  himself  was  the  first  o'  the  flock, 

And  Eve,  witii  her  apple  sauce,  cooked  hini,  my  dear." 


fi 


THE  SUNSHINE  OP  THE  HEART. 


11 


The  sunshine  of  the  heart  be  mine 

That  beams  a  charm  around  ; 
Where'er  if  -^heds  its  ray  .divine. 
Is  all  enciiantcd  ground  ! 
No  fiend  of  care 
May  enter  tiiere, 
Tho'  Fate  employ  fier  art : — 

Iler  da  mowlms  all  bow  to  thine, 

.10  heart! 


Bright  sunshiiii. 


Beneath  the  splendor  of  thy  ray 

How  lovely  all  is  made  J 
Bright  fountains  in  the  desert  play, 
And  palm  trees  cast  their  shade  j 
Thy  morning  light 
Is  rosy  bright, 
And  when  thy  beams  depart, 

Siill  glows  with  charms  thy  latest  ray, 
Sweet  sunshine  of  the  heart  I 


tOK'ilVAL    WOltKH  Oh    HAMLKL   LuYKli. 


4ua 


LADY    MINE! 


1. 

Lady  mine  !  lady  mine  ! 
Take  the  rosy  wreath  I  twine  ; 
All  its  sweets  are  less  limn  thine, 

Lady,  lady  mine  ! 
The  blush  that  on  thy  cheek  is  found 
Bloometh  fresh  the  whole  year  round  ; 
Thy  sweet  breath  as  sweet  gives  sounds 

Lady,  lady  mine ! 

II. 

Lady  mine  !  lady  mine  ! 

How  I  love  the  graceful  vine, 

Whose  tendrils  mock  thy  ringlets'  twine, 

Lady,  lady  mine ! 
How  I  love  that  gen'rous  tree, 
Whose  ripe  clusters  promise  me 
B'     pers  bright, — to  pledge  to  iftee, 

Lady,  lady  mine  ! 


in. 


Lady  mine  !  lady  mine  ! 
Like  the  stars  that  nightly  shine, 
Thy  sweet  eyes  shed  light  divine, 
Ladv,  ladv  mine ! 


404  roKTlCM.    WoUKS  Oh'  s.\MVKh   l.OYKH. 

And  ns  saj;os  wise,  of  old, 
From  tlio  slurs  could  futo  unfold, 
Thy  lin^^lit  eyes  //;//  fortune  told, 
Luilv.  ladv  rnino  ! 


-•••••■ 


GONDOLIER,    ROWl 


I. 

GoNDOLiEU,  row!  row! 

How  swift  the  flighl 

Of  time  to-night, 
Bu.t  the  gondolier  so  slo*v— 
Gondolier,  row  !  row  ! 

Ti>e  night  is  dark — 

So  speed  thy  bark 
To  the  balcony  we  know. 


11. 

Gondolier,  row  !  row  \ 
One  star  is  briirht 
With  trembling  lifjht — 

And  the  light  of  love  is  so. 

Gcndolier,  row  !  row  ! 
Tiie  watery  way 
Will  not  bctrav 

The  path  to  where  we  go. 


FO£TllJAL   WtjIiK^ 


w  (;  h 


.It  \  Kfi. 


40o 


MOLLY    BAWN. 


1. 

O  Molly  liawii,  why  leave  me  pining, 

All  lonely  waiting  here  for  you  ? 
The  stars  above  arc  brightly  shining, 

Be(;nuse — they've  nothing  else  to  do. 
The  flowers,  late,  were  open  keeping, 

To  try  a  rival  blush  with  you, 
But  their  mother,  Nature,  set  them  sleeping 

With  their  rosy  laces  wnsh'd — with  dew. 

O  Molly,  dec. 

ir. 

Now,  the  pretty  flowers  were  made  to  bloom,  dear, 

And  the  pretty  stars  were  made  to  shine. 
And  the  pretty  girls  were  made  for  the  boys,  dear, 

And  may  be  you  were  made  for  mine ! 
The  wicked  watch-dog  here  is  snarlins — 

He  takes  me  for  a  thief,  you  see  ; 
Faith,  he  knows  I'd  steal  you,  Molly  darling — 

And  then  transported  I  should  be. 

O  Molly,  ,kc. 


406 


rOETlCAL   WUIIKH  OF  SAMVKI.    l.olKlL 


THE    MORNING    DREAM. 


The  supfffitlilous  l)elleve  the  dream  of  tite  nlcht  t»  be  futse,  and  that  of  the  nionlnl 
iraa. 


^<^>w^^^^>^ 


The  eye  of  weeping 

Had  closed  in  sleeping, 
And  I  dreamt  a  bright  dream  of  night  J 

And  that  sweet  dreaming 

Had  all  the  seeming 
Of  truth  in  a  softer  light. 

I  saw  thee,  smiling, 

And  light  beguiling 
Beam'd  soft  from  that  eye  of  thine  ; 

As  in  a  bower, 

You  own'd  love's  power, 
And  fondly  vow'd  thou  wouldst  be  mine. 


;  ;  'Mi:'*: 


The  dream  deceived  me,— 
For  I  believed  thee. 

In  sleep,  as  in  waking  hours; 
But  even  slumber 
Few  joys  could  number, 

While  resting  in  dreamy  bowers: 


)r  the  nu)rtln| 


rOKTWAL   WOJiKH  OF  ,SAMUKI.  LoVKK. 

For  soon,  my  wuking 
The  soft  spell  breaking, 

I  found  fancy  fulso  as  you  j 

'Twas  darkness  round  me — • 
The  night-dream  bound  me — 

And  I  knew  the  dream  was  then  untrue. 

Again  I  slumberM, 

And  Woes  uiinuinbor'd 
Weigh'd  on  my  aching  iieart ; 

Thy  smile  had  vanish'd, 

And  I  was  banishM  ! — 
For  ever  doom'd  to  part. 

From  sleep  I  started, 
^    All  broken-hearted ; 
The  morn  shone  as  bright  as  you  !. 

The  lark's  sweet  singing 

My  heart's  knell  ringing, — 
For  I  knew  the  morning  dream  was  true. 


407 


m 


a 


m 


IMITATlOiNS  OF  SOxME  POPULAR  AUTHORS. 


THE  BARD  OF  AYR.* 


IlY  F 


.  u  r 


In  sparkling  cluster, 
The  midnight  lustre 
Of  stars  shone  bright  o'er 

A  haunted  stream ; 
And  the  spirit-daughter 
Of  the  mystic  water 
Was  sweetly  singing  in 

The  starlight  gleam. 
The  sirou  song, 
As  it  stole  along, 
The  fairy  throng  did 

In  chorus  share ; 
For  the  witching  story 
Foretold  the  glory 
Crowning  for  evermore 

The  banks  of  Ayr ! 

•  After  the  mauncr  of  "  The  IJcUs  of  Slmudoti." 


410 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


n 

Then  sprite  ol;  iviciuntain, 
And  f.ty  (if  fi^iiiituii!, 
And  tireilies  llickering 

111  f'ivc'lc'S  bl'i;;]i(-, 
Made  revel  raro 
Hound  the  Bard  <j'i  Ayr, 
In  cottti^'-c  lowly  born, 

That  starry  nii'lit. 
]>ut  humble  pLu';:,s 
That  genius  graces, 
For  ag(^s,  memory 

AVill  elierish  lojig, 
To  soulri  of  feeUiig, 
The  poorest  shicUng 
Is  made  a  palace 

By  the  prmce  of  song ! 

III. 

AVhen  tlio  \\(>ird  daughters 
Of  the  woods  and  waters 
Had  made  their  reveh-y, 

The  pageant  fled  ; 
"While  bright  in  heaven 
AVas  signal  givi'n, 
Sublimolv  shining  o'er 

The  infant's  head. 
For  tli(;n,  resplendent, 
His  star  ascendant 
Shone  forth  in  Lyra, 

"With  lustre  rare  ; 
The  fate  foretelling, 
And  fame  high-swelling. 


rOJSTICAL  WOIiKS  OF  SAMUKL  LO  VEU. 

Of  the  shepherd's  reed,  and 
The  Bard  of  Ayr  ! 

IV. 

O  child  of  toil, 

Canst  thou  daro  the  spoil 

Of  the  sacred  chaplet — 

The  poet'a  meed  ? 
Unhelm'd  thy  brow, 
And  unarm'd  art  thou — 
For  the  arms  are  letters, 

That  poets  need. 
But  tliongh  unarmed, 
Thy  life  is  charmed  ; 
Though  rival  spears  be 

Like  weaver's  beam 
To  battle  cheerly  ; 
Thou'lt  beat  them  rarely, 
With  sling  and  pebljle  from 

The  mountain  stream. 


411 


V. 

Though  nought  of  Sanscrit 
That  early  man  writ  ; 
Nor  sacred  Hebrev,-, 

Nor  sounding  Greek  ; 
Nor  stately  Latin, 
The  bard  was  pat  in — 
Those  many  tongues,  that  many 

Nations  sneak. 

1. 

Yet,  oh !  far  sweeter 
Than  pedant  metro. 


412 


I'OETIGAL   WOllKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER, 


Or  classic  giiitcr,  that  the 

(Schools  im]->art, 
Was  Nature'o  dower 
Of  matchless  power — 
'Twas  the  living  lauguago 

Of  the  heart. 

VI. 

We've  heard  the  chiming 
Of  many  a  rhyming, 
From  the  booming  belfiy 

Of  pseudo  fame  ; 
But  Fancy's  spells 
Did  not  rule  the  bells — 
'Twas  noisy  mockery 

Of  music's  name. 
Such  clang  uproarious, 
Though  deem'd  victorious, 
By  the  ranting  ringers 

Who  fame  would  quell, 
No  charm  could  render 
Like  the  music  tender 
Of  the  quiet  tinkling  of 

The  shepherd's  bell. 

VII. 

In  all  around  him 
'Twas  Nature  found  him 
The  store  of  beauty, 

Whence  Fancv  drew. 
The  "  birken  shade," 
And  the  moonlit  glade, 
Whose  music's  made  by  rivers 

Rushing  through. 


POETICAL   WOUKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOYKH. 


413 


Tho  plaintive  note 

Of  "  tho  woodlark's  "  throat, 

8ad  lover,  doting, 

Awakes  thy  pain  ; 
Or  the  breezy  West 
To  thy  loving  breast 
Wafts  balmv  mera'rieg  of 

Thy  lovely  "Jean." 

VIII. 

For  Feeling's  phases 
Through  Love's  deep  mazes, 
For  grave  or  gay,  or 

For  patriot  fire, 
For  sadness  sinking, 
Or  the  cans  when  clinking. 
His  spirit  ruled  each  measure 

Of  the  lyre. 
No  school  oppress'd  him. 
No  rules  distress'd  him 
A  fearless  hand  o'er 

His  harp  he  Hung  ; 
The  strin"?  reboundinir 
With  bolder  sounding 
Thau  e'er  was  heard  since 

Young  Greece  had  sung. 


IX. 


On  Parnassus,  pearly 
With  dewdrops  early. 
The  winged  horse  did 
In  fi-eedom  range, 


4U 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVEIL 


Till  poetasters 
Became  liin  iniistors  ; — 
For  thto,  O  Pegasus, 

A  wol'iil  change  ! 
His  speed  restraiuirig- 
With  curbs  and  reining. 
And  managed  training, 

The  noble  steed 
Was  made  to  scramble 
In  limping  shamble — 
They  dared  not  him  ride  at 

His  native  speed ! 

X. 

To  teach  him'  paces, 
With  sour  grimaces, 
Next,  critics,  cracking 

The  sancv  thong, 
Eestrain'd  his  bouncing 
With  threaten'd  trouncinaf 
Of  the  peerless  palfrey  of 

The  nymphs  of  song. 
More  to  ]ierplex  him, 
And  further  vex  him, 
A  saddle,  next,  him 

They  put  upon  ; 
And  stirrup  crafty 
Did  add  for  safety — 
Without  it,  hopelessly 

Their  seat  was  gone. 

XI. 

But  Burns,  brave  rhvntier, 
A  daring-  climber. 


POKTlt'AL   WORKS   of  SAMUKl.   LOVEU, 

Up  steep  rarn.'issu.s 

UnJaunted  caino  ; 
Tlie  nymplis  adoring;-. 
Their  leave  imploring, 
To  ride  their  steed  iu 

The  Olympic  game. 
All  servile  strappings, 
And  puny  trappings, 
The  fearless  bard  Hung, 

Indignant,  down. 
On  the  wild  horse  springing, 
''Mid  plaudits  ringing. 
He  rode  him  bareback'd,  and 

He  won  the  erown ! 


•il5 


i|;^ 


>;u. 

'Tis  a  hundred  year 
Since,  with  fairy  cheers. 
His  birth  was  welcomed 

With  revel  rare. 
Now  the  sons  of  earth 
Meet,  to  note  the  birth 
Of  the  matchless  minstrel, 

The  Bard  of  Avr. 
Great  Bard,  excelling 
Our  power  of  telling, 
Oh,  mighty  master 

Of  smiles  and  tears ! 
Such  gift  from  Heaveu 
Is  seldom  given — ■ 
'Tis  only  "  once  in 

A  hundred  years !" 


1: 


41(5 


rOETlVAL    WORKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVKli. 


m 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  FAR  WEST.* 

HAILING   TUE    CKNTENARY   UIKTHDAY    OF   EUUNS. 
H  .  .  .  Y  W  .  lis  .  .  .  Til   L  .  .  fJF  .  ,  .  .  w. 


Footsteps  of  Time,  how  stealthy  ; — stealthy  as  foot  of  tho 
Indian, 

Slieath'd  in  the  moccasin  pliant,  treading  the  forest  primeval, 

When  to  the  lair  of  the  panther,  or  on  the  path  of  the  foeraan, 

Grliding  he  cometh; — the  dry  leaves  uncrackhng  are  trodden 
beneath  him, 

Leavin  ,'  the  sentinel  oaks  asleep  on  their  posts  undisturbed. 

But  if  some  branch  overlaid  with  leaves  and  mosses  and 
grasses, 

Traverse  the  path  of  the  red  man,  unseen  and  all  unexpected. 

The  branch  with  its  crackling  bark,  giveth  alarm  like  a  watch- 
dog; 

And  the  squirrel  awaken'd  to  danger  looks  down  on  the 
hunter  detected. 

So  do  the  names  of  renown,  defying  decay  and  resisting 

The  down-tramp  of  Time  as  he  stalks  through  the  wilder- 
ness solemn  in  silence ; 

Snapping  asunder  the  crust  of  oblivion,  assert  their  exist- 
ence : — 

Tho  names  of  the  great  ones,  O  Time!— the  names  of  tho 
great  ones  defy  thee  ! 

*  Aftor  tlie  luaimei-  of  "  Eviuigoline." 


:sT.* 

INS. 


foot  of  the 

st  primeval, 
the  foemiiii, 
are  troddeu 

ndisturbed. 
mosses  aud 

nnexpeeted, 
ike  a  watch- 

3\vn  on  the 

esisting 
the  wilder- 

their  exist- 

imes  of  tho 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEIl.  417 


ir. 


A-ncl  now  hath  Time  set  liis  foot  011  a  branch  Iviu-  h.i,n-  in 
the  byways, 

Tr-Win^^  at  lirsfc  prematurely,  disastrously  snapp',1  in  its 
vigor, 

Too  lung  neglected  ;— but  often  Neglect  is  the  moth(u-  „f 
Beauty ; 

The  branch  while  it  lay  has  been  gathering  mosses  and  gol- 
den lichens. 

Richer  and  richer  each  year,  encrusted  with  growing  glories ; 

Sunshine  and  rahi  have  fed  it  :— Whence  came  the  sunshine' 
and  rain  ? — 

Even  from  human  eyes,  as  they  flash'd  or  they  wept  ]nirth 
sorrow ! 

Such  is  the  branch  that  hath  crackled  beneath  the  footstepi 

of  Time, 
And  the  forest  laughs  forth  in  echoes  that  murmur  "A  hun 

dred  years."' 


or 


iir. 


And  Time  with  his  scythe  makes  a  notch  in  the  moss-cover'd 
branch,  as  a  record. 

Whittling  his  stick,  as  it  were,  in  a  kind-o'-hke   almanac 
fashion. 

Even  as  castaway  Crusoe  his  rails  nick'd,  his  lone  days  to 
measure  : 

The  earliest  example  we  have  of  a  time-table  kept  by  the 
railway, 

Ere  railways  restricted  the  steps  of  our  wide-roving  children 
ox  freedom, 

Compelling  monotonous  movement  in  paths  paraU-.ilogrum- 
ical. 


418 


FOKTWAI.   WOlih'S  OF  HAMUKI.  LOVIiR. 


IV. 


Hiippy  thy  niiiue,  ()  BritKs! — iov  biirus,  in  thy  unl've  Doria 
Moiiuc'th  tlio  free  l)ri;jlit  s^lrciiiis,  cxlmustlosH,  peilacid,  antl 

spiirkliii<^, 
Mount!iiii-l)oi-ti,    wild  mid   crriilii-,   Id.s.siny   tho   ilow'icts   ia 

piisttin-r, 
Typo  of  tliy  ver.so  and  thysuil'— luvinj^-  and  musical  ever; 
And  tlie  streaiu.s  by  th,   verse  made  iuuaortal  are  kuuvvu  by 

orir  giant  rivers, 
Wiere  the  emigrants  sing  them  to  soothe  the  yearnings  for 

home  in  their  bosoms, 
And  the  Coila  and  geiitlo  Dooii,  by  the  song  of  the  Celtic 

wanderer, 
Are  known  to  the  whispering  reeds  that  border  the  great 

Mississippi. 


Thou  wert  the  lad  for  the  lasses ! — lasses  the  same  are  as 
misses  ; 

And  here  we  have  misses  had  pleased  you — Missouri  and 
fast  Mississippi. 

And  "^,1  sen  grow  tho  rushes"  beside  them — as  thy  ever- 
green chorus  would  have  them. 


n. 

Thou  wert  the  champion  of  freedom ! — Thou  didst  rejoice  in 

our  glory ! 
When  we  at  Bunker's  Hill  no  bunkum  display'd,  but  true 

courage  I 
Jubilant  thou  wert  in  our  declaration  of  inder)endence ! 
More  a  republican   thou   than  a   chain-hugging  bow-and« 

scrape  royalist ! 


it'vo  Dorici. 
ellucid,  ill  1(1 

iluw'iets   iu 

ill  over ; 
J  known  by 


iurnings  for 


'  the  Celtic 
c  the  great 


romiVM.  woiiivs  <jf  ,samukj.  unKH. 


411) 


ime  are  as 
ssouri  and 
I  thy  ever- 


jt  rejoice  iu 

l1,  but  true 

lence ! 

•  bow-and« 


Even  the  Slurs  and  the  Stripes  Kuoiu  appointed  the  Hag  of 

thy  destiny : — 
The  btars  are  the  types  of  Ihy  yLn-y,  the  Htripcs  thou  did'st 

get  fi'oui  Misfortune, 

But  other  cup  did'.st  thou  drain  than  that  Misfortune  dealt 

thee, 
The  cup  of  good-fellowsliip,  briiniuing  and  wreathed  with 

the  flowers  of  thy  fancy; 
Oh,  such  a  cup  could  I  fill  with  a  iiled^e  fo  such  spirit  as 

thine, 
Pcrchanoe  I  nii^dit  ticspass  like  llico,  and  sit  till  the  "hour 

'yont  the  twal," 
Defying  the  ]\[aine   liquor-law  and  ilio  slncky  Slyboots  of 

Boston. 
But  not  iu  Catawba  wine  Avill  I  drink  (although  I  have  sung 

it, 
To  pleasure  some  Vlgncron  friends  that  dwell  by  the  beauti- 
ful river); 
Nor  not  in  New  York  champagne,  that  is  turn'd  out  of  NeAV 

Jersey  turnips  ; 
Nor  not  in  that  fire-water  fusty,  entitled  Monongahela  ; 
But  in  old  West  India  rum—- ^vith  ebony  Sambo  to  serve  it. 
And  though  some  might  object  to  carouse  iu  this  State  o! 

Massachusetts, 
Who  dare  forbid,  when  Sambo  would  say,  "]\Iassa  chusea 

it!" 
So  hbation  I  pour  to  thee.  Burns  !  on  this  thy  Hundredth 

birthday. 
And  hundreds  nf  thousands  rIkiII  drink  it  for  thouscmds  of 

yeai's  to  come. 


420 


roiriirM.  wDiiKs  OF  sAMutn.  j.ovf.h. 


A  HPIllIT  LAY.* 

rilOM    UAUES. 
T S  C  .  .  P  .  .  LL. 


Of  Scoti.a  autl  ilie  North 

A  loving  son  would  sinf(, 
Ami  to  land  surpassing  worth 
Would  wake  the  silent  string, 
Uiitouch'd  since  it  sank  to  tho  tomb  ; 
But  bardic  fires  still  burn 
In  the  ashes  of  the  urn, 
And  glimmering  back  return 
Throuuh  tlie  g'Iooih. 


II. 

For  BuKNS  this  sjiirii,-lay 
Is  wafted  to  the  etirth, 
In  honor  of  tho  day 

That  gave  the  poet  birth, — 
A  hundred  years  ago  was  the  time. 
At  the  propitious  hour 
Each  visionary  power 
Hound  the  ivy-mantled  tower 
Haii'd  the  chime. 

*■  Aflnr  the  manner  of"  Tlio  Balllo  of  the  Baltjfi.* 


POKTIVM   W'OUKS  i>y  SAMUKL   LOVKIi. 


421 


in. 

Tho  visioiiiiry  ptjwcr.s 

That  b1ic«1  their  iiivHtie  uiii,'ht 
O'er  the  puet'H  dreuiuy  liours, 
To  niako  hin  visiona  brij^ht, 
Bound  the  cradle  of  tlie  poet-habe  did  sweep. 
And  freely,  as  ihey  passM, 
In  shower  bright  and  fant, 
Tlieir  gifts  on  him  they  cast 
In  his  sleep. 

IV. 

And  Liberty's  brave  hand 

O'er  his  head  the  thistle  waved — 
That  emblem  of  a  land 

That  would  never  be  enslaved  ; — 
And  the  downy  seed  took  root  in  his  heart, 
And  braced  it  for  the  fight, 
Wiih  a  corn-ago  ever  bright 
7     '  the  right  against  niigiit 
To  take  part. 


And  when  he  poured  the  song, 

As  lovelv  as  'twas  bold, 
For  the  weak  against  the  strong, 
No  bosom  ''  uld  be  cold, 
For  Trnth's  celestial  wing  fann'd  tho  fire, 
To  impart  the  generous  glow 
T'   '  's  ver.sfis'  feai'less  Mow. 
And  victory  to  bestow 
On  his  Ivre  ! 


Ml 


422 


rOKTlCAL    WOUKS  (JF  .s\Mi'Ei,   J.OVFR. 


\I. 

Oi'l,  ill  sonu!  pleasure  ground 
By  vaunfful  pride  display'd, 
While  the  loveliueHS  around 
Was  hy  wood  and  watej-  made, 
The  Hewers  and  the  Drawers  were  forirot : 
Or,  if  thcnight  of,  only  viow'd 
As  a  lowly,  boorish  brood, 
By  destiny  subdued 
To  their  lot. 

VII. 

Too  long  tln".s  tainted  heap 
Of  falsehood  did  obtain. 
The  ijijured  poor  to  la.'op 

In  tlie  depth  of  cold  disdain  ;— 
Where  exiled  from  rluir  ]<ind  lay  they  long, 
Unpitied  and  unsung. 
Till  the  peasant-lyre  was  strung, 
'      ■    And  bold  lingers,  o'er  it  Hung, 
"W  aked  the  sona\ 


VIII. 


Then  up  tlio  Poet  stood, 

And  as  Hercules',  of  old, 
The  purifying  flood 
Through  the  Augean  stable  roll'd, 
So  BcTRNs  commanded  Oastaly's  bright  tide, 
In  his  might  of  bardic  sway, 
Through  the  humble  vale  to  strav. 
And  the  foul  myth  s\ve]-»t  away, 
Born  of  pride. 


n. 


^ot; 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

IX. 

'Twas  then,  with  fearless  brow, 

Ho  chcck'd  the  pride  of  kings, 
And  l)ade  the  titled  knnv 
Tlie  fount  oi  honor  .springs 
In  vain,  to  render  fail-  what  is  foul  ; 

That  "  rank  but  stamps  the  coin," 
The  "  gold  "  is  from  a  mine — 
Placed  by  the  Hand  Divine 
In  the  soul ! 


423 


>ng, 


Groat  was  the  Switzer's  hap. 

Whose  neck  would  not  be  bowM 
To  the  despot's  feather'd  cap 
That  awed  the  market  crowd  : — 
Oh!  like  unto  his  glory  was  thine, 

And  thy  heart,  in  noble  swell, 
Not  unworthy  of  a  Tell, 
When  thy  hand  it  did  impel 
To  that  line !  * 


XI. 


:le, 


I  have  felt  thy  soft  control. 

The  lay  of  love  to  pour. 
Or  wreathe  Avith  flowers  of  soul 
The  wine-cup's  genial  hour, 
/  Or  summon  mirth  or  tears  at  thy  will ; 

But  dearest  all  to  rne 
Was  thy  love  of  Liberty, 
And  the  action,  (n-er  free, 
Of  tby  will. 

•  "The  r.ink  is  hut  llio  gninoti'ss  staniiv-llii'  iiinii's  tlin  irnwM  for  a'  tbat." 


■t»wigf>miiiiuuwig 


424 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUKL   LOVER. 


XII. 

Such  joy  my  own  heart  knew, 

"When  it  dwelt  iu  mortal  shnne, 
As  it  interwoven  grew 
Into  brotherhood  divine 
With  the  champions  and  the  bards  of  the  free, 
And  invoked  upon  my  lyre 
The  succession  of  their  fire, 
That  their  mantle  might  attire 
Even  me. 

XIII. 

Wlien,  erst,  my  muse  did  sing 

Of  Sarmatia  trampled  down  ; — 
And  now  a  burglar  king 

Eobs  the  old  Hungarian  crown, 
While  the  land  where  Brutus  struck,  and  Ctesar  fell, 
Is  held  in  chains  of  lead  ; — 
Awake !  illustrious  dead ! 
Oi',  lift  again  thy  head, 
Gallant  Toll ! 


XIV, 

Strike  an  alarm,  my  lyre. 

From  the  darkness  of  the  tomb, 
And,  with  thy  wonted  fire, 
Chase  the  more  deadly  gloom 
That  o'er  the  nations  crush'd  darkly  lies. 
Oh,  could  thy  prompting  voice 
Make  the  battle-field  their  choice, 
How  my  spirit  would  rejoice 
In  the  skies  ! 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


425 


le  free, 


A.  FEW  WORDS  ON  POETS  IN  GENERAL,  AND  ONE 
IN  PARTICULAR.* 

By  TiiK  Ghost  of  T  .  ,  .  .  s  11  .  .  d. 


"  What's  iu  a  name  "  t—Slialcenpeare. 


By  different  names  were  Poets  callM 
In  different  climes  and  times  ; 

The  Welsli  and  Irish  call'd  him  Bard, 
Who  was  confined  to  rhvmes. 


II. 


i  Ctesar  fell, 


In  France  they  call'd  them  Troubadours, 

Or  3Ienedrels,  by  turns  ; 
The  Scandinavians  call'd  them  Scaldti, 

The  Scotchmen  call  theirs  Burns. 


III. 

A  strange  coincidence  is  this, 

Both  names  implying  heat  ; 
But  had  the  Scotchmen  call'd  theirs  Scald, 

'Twere  title  more  complete. 

IV. 

For  why  call'd  Bup.xs  'tis  hard  to  say 

(Except  all  sense  to  slaughter) ; 
Scald  was  the  name  he  slionld  have  liad, 

Being  always  in  hot  loatcr. 

*  After  tlic  manner  of  "  Liciiteni'.nt  I.ulr,"  "Nelly  Cniy,"  kc.,k<i. 


jt26 


rOETIVAL    WOllKS  OF  .SAMUEL  LO  VEIi. 


V. 


For  ho  was  poor,— his  natal  hut 
Was  built  of  m  ud,  they  say ; 

But  though  the  hut  was  built  of  mud, 
He  was  no  counnon  day. 


VI. 


But  though  of  clay  he  was  (a  fate 
Each  child  of  earth  must  share), 

As  well  as  being  a  child  of  Earth- 
He  was  a  child  of  Arjr. 


VII. 


And  though  he  could  not  vaunt  his  houses 
Nor  boast  his  birth's  gentility, 

Nature  upon  the  boy  bestow'd 
Her  patent  of  nobility. 


vnr. 


It  needed  not  for  hini  his  race 
In  herald's  books  should  shine; 

■What  pride  of  ancestry  compares 
With  his  iUustrions  line? 


IX. 


So  he,  with  heaven-ennobled  soul, 
All  heralds  held  in  scorn, 

Save  one,  the  oldest  of  thoa  all — 
"The  herald  of  tlio  niorii." 


Call'd  by  /./.s  clarion,  up  rose  he, 
True  liege  of  Nature's  throne, 

Fielch  to  invest,  and  mountain  crest 
With  blazon  of  his  own. 


POETICAL   WOllKS  OF  BAMUKL   LOVKli. 


427 


XI. 


His  Vert,  the  moruiug'H  dewy  g-reeu, 
His  Puvpare,  evening's  close, 

His  Azure,  tlie  unclonded  sky, 
His  Gulen,  "  the  red,  red  rose." 


xir. 

His  Argenl  sparkled  in  the  streams 
That  flash'd  through  birken  bo^Yers ! 

His  Or  was  in  the  autumn  leaves 
That  fell  in  golden  showers. 


XIII. 

Silver  and  gold  of  other  sort 

The  poet  had  but  little  ; 
But  he  had  more  of  rarer  store, — 

His  heart's  undaunted  mettle. 

XIV. 

And  yet  his  heart  was  gentle  too, — 
Sweet  Woman  could  enslave  him  ; . 

And  from  the  shafts  of  Cupid's  bow 
Even  Armour'^  could  not  save  him. 


XV. 

And  if  that  armor  could  not  save 

From  shafts  that  chance  might  wield, 

What  wonder  that  the  poet  wise 
Oared  little  for  a  ahield  ? 

*  "  Bonn}'  Jean's  '"  iiiiiidon  nomp. 


s 


428  ruETivAL  Works  of  sa.mukl  loveh. 

XV  r. 

And  Sable  too,  uiul  Arr/en!  (vhicli 

J'or  colors  hei'.'ilils  write) 
111  Buuxs'  uucompromising  liauds 

"Were  honest  blach  and  lohile. 

XVI  r. 

And  in  that  honest  black  and  white 

He  wrote  his  verses  bold  ; 
And  though  he  sent  them  far  abroad, 

Home  truths  they  always  told. 

XYIII. 

And  so,  for  "  honest  poverty  " 
He  sent  a  brilliant  page  down  ; 

And,  to  do  battle  for  the  poor, 
The  ganger  threw  his  gauge  down. 

XIX. 

For  him  the  garb  of  "  hodden  gray  " 
Than  tabards  had  more  champs  ; 

He  took  the  part  of  ttleevele.^s  coals 
Against  the  coats  of  arms. 

XX. 

And  although  they  of  Oxford  may 
Sneer  at  his  want  of  knowledge, 

He  had  enough  of  wit  at  least 
To  beat  the  Heralds'  College. 

xxr. 

The  growing  brotherhood  of  his  kind 
He  clearly,  proudly  saw  that, 

When  launching  from  his  lustrous  mind 
"A  man's  a  man,  for  a'  that ! " 


A'. 


POETIUAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVKH. 


42<J 


ODE* 

BY  AN  AMATEUR,  AN  AKDENT  ADMIUER  OF 

MILTON, 

ON    THE   CENTENNIAL   BIRTHDAY    OF    BURNS. 


I. 

Hence,  chroniclers  o:  Time, 

Makers  of  {ilmai.?,cs  and  strauge  predictions, 

Held  by  the  wise  as  fictions  ; 
Begone,  and  wallow  in  the  river's  slime. 
To  calculate  the  tides  ; 

Or  be  your  bed  in  bedlamitic  cell, 

Where  moon -calves  best  may  dwell, 

To  note  her  phases  and  her  quarters  dark, 

That  lovers  well  may  mark, 
What  silvery  hour  for  meeting  best  provides. 

But  here  your  art  is  wanted  not, 

Tliis  day — the  ne  n--to-be-forgot 

Makes  an  era  of  its  ^wn  ; 

And  the  dark  Cimmerian  throne 

Of  Erebus  and  Nox,  no  more 

Encumbers  Lethe's  barren  shore, 

In  chains  of  silence  to  oppress 

The  victims  of  forge tfuln ess. 

II. 
Let  the  elder  ages  pass 
Darkly — as  in  a  wizard's  glass ; 
,*  Ai'tcr  the  nittnncr  of  "II  Pcnscroso  "  and  "  Ij'Allegro." 


f 


iiii 


430  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

But  the  century  of  to-clay, 
Drivinf>'  all  iliat's  dim  awav, 
Bids  tlic  rosy  hours  advance 
In  one  bright  perennial  dance, 
That  future  centuries  coine  and  go 
"  On  the  light  fantastic  toe." 
Thus  did  the  hours  of  eld  foj'erun 
The  morning  chariot  of  the  Sun. 
"  As  list'ning  how  the  hounds  and  horn 
Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn 
From  liis  ■\vatch-tower  in  the  skies." 
The  day-god  rubs  his  drowsy  eyes, 
Starting  from  dark  J^ight's  embrace, 
.Vho  envieth  his  liery  chase 
With  the  gay  Hours  ;  and  fears  the  hap 
Of  his  rest  in  Thetis'  lap, 
When  the  curtaiu'd  clouds  are  sprent 
O'er  the  blushing  Occident. 


*if 


III. 

In  centennial  cycle  we, 

With  pomp,  and  feast,  and  revelry, 

Multitudinously  meet. 

Natal  day  of  bard  to  greet. 

Fauns  and  Dryads,  Sylph  and  Fairy, 

Hail  this  epoch  centenary. 

See  on  yonder  mountain-top 

Caledonia  plays  Scotch-hop 

With  swimming  eye  and  mazy  gait 

(By  "mountain  dew  "  inebriate), 

Summons  every  loj'al  chiel 

To  reel  the  dance  and  dance  the  reel ; 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

"Wliile  centuries  come,  and  centuries  go, 
"  On  the  liglit  fantastic  toe." 

IV. 

Small  things  often  great  fortell  :— 

As  murmurs  low  the  tempest's  swell. 

Would  inquiring  spirits  know 

Whitherward  tlie  storm  doth  blow  ?— 

Mark  the  way  the  branch  is  bow'd, 

"  When  rocking  winds  are  piping  loud," 

Or  the  course  of  straws  or  leaves, 

In  the  whirlwind's  vertices, 

All  the  varied  curves  amid 

Of  cone,  ellipse,  or  cycloid ; 

Such  as  the  studious  hours  might  please 

Of  Euchd  or  Archimedes. 


431 


And  so  some  trifle,  light  as  air, 

The  trick  of  genius  will  declare, 

And  'tis  such  trifle  light,  upturns, 

To  prove  how  genius  wrought  in  Burns, 

T'  whom  Nature  in  the  natal  hour. 

Denied  refined  acoustic  power. 

That  keener  sense  which  music  prizes. 

And  which  the  ear  monopolizes. 

By  general  rule,  in  common  clay. 

In  BuRNs's  gifted  body  lay  ; 

And  chance  did  " testify"  this  sense. 

And  show'd  "  its  hidden  residence." 

For,  resting  once  his  oaken  chair, 

The  sedent  Bard  caught  up  an  air, 

With  facile  sense  of  interval, 

Infleotive  rise,  and  dying  fall, 


432  rOETlCAL  WOIiK:^  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 

And  swaying  p^outly  to  and  fro, 
(As  babos  iind  nutrient  mothorn  go.) 
The  Bard,  to  Kound  no  lunger  dense, 
Hocking,  nursed  tlio  new-born  sense. 

VI. 

'Tis  thus,  that,  in  the  dreamy  vast 
(Darhng  visions  of  the  past), 
I  love  the  bard  to  contemplate, 
Backward  sway'd,  and  head  elate. 
Thus  did  he  new-found  tunes  rehearse, 
And  "  marry  to  innnortal  verse  ;" 
And  as  he  whistled  every  air, 
Hocking  in  his  oaken  chair, 
'Twas  "  rocking  wind  and  piping  loud  " 
That  hclp'd  the  bard,  so  strangc-cndow'd, 
"To  untwist  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony." 

VII. 

And  may  not  this  suggest  a  reason 
"Why  Yankees,  in  and  out  of  season, 
Cock  up  their  heels  in  easy  chair  ; — 
Perhaps  they're  looking  for  an  air. 
Perhaps  t'was  thus  some  democrati<; 
Denouncer  of  th'  aristocratic, 
"With  free-born  kick  'gainst  all  things  feudal, 
Composed  the  famous  "  Yankee  Doodle  ;" 
The  jerking  bars  of  chair  unsteady, 
Well  suiting  tune  so  rough  and  ready. 

VIII. 

But  now,  to  crown  this  joyous  day, 
liaise  the  merry  roundelay. 


POETICAL   WOUKS  OF  SAMVKL   IMVKIi. 

Ijct  tlie  iiiorry  dancers  Rpeod 
To  oaten  stop  and  pastoral  reed. 
Yet  liold  !  no  oatou  stop  uiu;st  e'er 
Ponnitted  bo  in  Scotia  i'air  ; 
OattMi  stop  to  shepherd's  ear, 
In  classic  clime,  however  dear, 
Were  to  the  frugal  Scottish  nation 
Bnt  mournful  pre  lude  to  starvation. 
For  on  oatnu-al  'tis  they  live— 
And  goodly  meals  can  oatmeal  give  ; 
Therefore,  in  Caledonia  free, 
That  stop  of  oats  may  novor  be  ! 

ix. 

But  though  oaten  stop's  forbid, 

Let  no  Scottish  swain  bo  chid, 

Who,  while  he  takes  his  shepherd's  crook, 

Also  takes  afield  his  jjook, 

That  while  his  lambs  enjoy  their  feed, 

lie  may  enjoy  his  pastoral  read.  •■ 


133 


X. 

But  reed  and  stop  may  stop  away 

Louder  instruments  luVn  play; 
Let  the  merry  bells  ring  round, 
.Vn<l  the  jocund  rebecks  sound. 
Best  befitting  mirth's  gay  crew, 
With  nods  and  becics  and  relieck;  too  ; 
Or,  if  rebecks  may  not  play. 
Bagpipes  are  as  good  as  they. 

*  Lest  the  amateur  author  shouI,l   he   tj.ougbtles.ly  aoousna  of  frh-olons 


4d4 


yvKTirM.    WoliKS  of>   .SiMl  Kf.    l.niKH. 


Uo  ac'livo  111],  lor  I'rolio  ripo, 
Tim  only  ilrouo  1»h  in  the  pipe  ; 
And  it'  no  jiipo — to  ilunce  wo'U  spriuj,', 
As  the  suggestive  tiiUilestriug 
Makes  UB  twirl  km  I  Inive  Bc^en 
Apples  on  a  HsiUowe'en. 
Stuck  on  (sticks  8<'t  erucifonn, 
While  the  rovcUors,  in  a  swarm, 
(rather  round  the  jirize  to  .seize, 
Thick  us  tiu!  inelliferons  bees, 
Thick  us  JKCs  melliferous  striv, 
llonml  the  (!i)ni])lc\-cHV('rjiM  lnvo. 

XI. 

For  the  daucevh  linal  round, 

Hark  tbo  merj  y  iiddlcH  souiul, 

"While  the  joybells  join  the  ring, 

1'lirough  tlie  arcades  echoing. 

And  thuij  shall  bows  and  bells  propost 

The  final  dance  to  belles  and  beaux. 


XJI. 

Such  our  d:iy  !-  i'i<»u  morning's  liglii 

Till  what  time  the  angular  jlight 

Of  the  bar  suggests  that  we 

Zig-zag  home  as  well  as  he. 

Thus  the  mazy  puth  we'll  g<i, 

Still  on  Ihefciniaslic  toe, 

Though  the  liyhlne.^s  all  hath  lied 

I'lom  the  foot  into  the  head. 

After  festal  elevation, 

Kach  descends  to  '.s  proper  staiion; 


Wlioro  tho  locomotive's  suorJin^., 
And  tho  careful  frnuvd  oseoitiiifT;' 
Or,  it  may  he,  at  tho  foasfn  oiul, ' 
Homo  Koek  busses  to  \\w.  West  Khd  ; 
Some  with  frowns  and  «omo  with  sn'iiles 
l^cbatinj.  hou-  thov'll  o,u,j,  their  miles  ;  ' 
K'on  as,  through  life,  it  doth  prevail, 
That  some  do  buns  it  -some  do  rail,' 


435 


L  K  T  T  E  II , 

ySirU   AX   LNC-LOSUKK,    SUPPOSEi,    To    BK    AN    LAKLV   AND 
UNFINISHED  WOIJK   Ol"  i:„LKltT  liUUN.s. 


To  the  Directors  of  (he  Cryslal  ralaa-.* 
Of.nti,ehen,-Ah  I  understand  y.m  are  .^ettii,.-  u»  a  ool 

lection  Of  manuscripts  of  the  Great  Bard  L  thrc:!:!:::^ 
vou  are  ..u.g-  (most  justly,  und  nu^-h  fo  y„„..  b„„.,)   ,1 

celebrate  on  the  2oih  of  January,  18oU-thar  l.-a,,-  exactly 

one   hundred    year,    since    ho    (tho    Bard)    was    born  -  I 

enclos.  you  a  mosL   interesting  specimen   of  his  voutidul 

Remus,  which  was  discovered  some  short  time  ago  in  c-Ie-u- 

ingout  an  old-fashioned  escritoire,  whicli  has  been  ne^.V-chn' 

tnno  out  of  mind  in  a  back  room  in  the  upper  sto;:  of  a' 

^ery  ohl   ]u)use,  in  which  many  generations  of  a  worthy 

it/in :.,:;; -L^iin:  :;:;e';:;;  i::::^;;;^:?  ';t  ^"^'^  ^---^  ""•'  -'^--^^^ 


SHfi 


m  : 


i'M 


roi'TlCAL    i\'o I;KS   (IF 


\MVKL   I.OVEi:. 


f';iiiiily  Ikivc  lived  iiiul  died.  Aftrr  the  dciiiise  of  the  lust 
liiK'ui  descc'iidaiit,  ii  di>>pcrsioii  ol'  tl:(;  pr()i)city  tuok  phice, 
Jiiid  iii  c'k'driii-^-  out  odd  drawei'S  Jn'foic  the;  I'uniiturL'  wuri 
S(-hl  hy  luiolic  roup  (or  iir.ction,  iis  a  on  .say  iu  Eii<j;L'ind), 
the  enclosed  ]uaiiu.scri[)t  was  found  ;  and  I  tliink  it  will  l)e 
the  njost  curious  and  interesting-  iu  your  ghiss  cassc,  iu 
which,  I  am  told,  it  is  your  intention  to  enclose  all  such 
documents,  giving  the  public  the  opportunity  of  such  a 
great  pleasure,  and  iit  the  same  time  ensuring  the  safety 
of  such  precious  relics. 

The  great  point  of  interest  which  I  would  beg  to  point 
out  to  you  in  this  most  racy  (as  far  as  it  goes)  production, 
is,  that  it  bears  evidence  of  being  written  by  the  great  Bavd 
before  he  l)egan  to  intermingle  English  so  extensively  iu 
his  productions,  and  thai  much  to  their  injuiy.  What  his 
own  opinion  was  upon  the  gradual  I'dling-oii  of  his  own 
generation  from  the  good  old  langua<^e  of  his  country  may 
be  seen  in  that  matchless  production  of  his,  "The  Brigs 
of  Ayr,"  wherein  the  " auld  Brig"  characteristically  deplores 
the  fact, — 

"  Nae  larigcr  I'overeikl  incn,  llioir  country's  glury, 
h\  plain  braid  Scots  lioiil  iDrtli  ii  jilaiii  braiii  >t(.ry." 

And  yet,  strange  to  say,  he  himself  committed  the  very 
fault  h(!  points  out  in  others.     He  says  iu  another  place, — 

"  Ami  Diay  you  bettor  r^ck  the  I'cilo, 
'J'li  III  ever  dill  til'  adviser  " 

And  he  himself  did  not  "reck  the  rede"  as  to  keeping  up 
the  line  old  language  of  his  country,  but  i)ecame  seduced 
into  the  use  of  to(>  nuu-h  of  the  English  ditdect,  which  only 
reduces  the  richness  iuid  raciness  i)i  lii.H  still  matchles.s 
poenjs  ;— but  what  might  they  not  have  been  if  ho  had  kept 
more  to  his  vernacular'? 


\ 


i-:i:. 


rOKTICAL  MOliKS  OF  SAMUEL   LOVETi. 


[:n 


e  of  Hie  last 
y  tuok  place, 
I'uiiiitiiru  \v:ui 
ill  Eiiglaiul), 
ink  it  will  1)0 
lass  case,  iu 
lose  all  such 
y  of  such  a 
]<X  till    safety 

beg  to  point 
)  production, 
e  great  Bard 
xtensively  iu 
'.  ^Vhat  iii,4 
I  ui  his  own 
country  may 
"The  Brigs 
;al]y  deplores 


ed    the   very 
:her  place, — 


)  keeping  up 
Luje  seduced 
■.,  which  only 
il  match  loss 
he  had  kept 


Now,  the  groat  beauty  of  the  enclosed  is,  that  it  is  almost 
miadulterated.  There  is  none  of  his  published  works  so 
free  from  all  foreign  taint.  It,  was  evidently  wriMcu  when 
he  was  young,  as  the  writing  does  not  seem  to  Ix.  ;is  yet 
what  we  may  call  a  formed  hand,  but  having  (piite  enoiiLjh 
of  the  charucter  of  ]iurns's  writing  to  leave  no  doubt  as  to 
the  authorship;  and  the  free  use  of  the  vernacular  is  an- 
other proof  that  it  was  a  juvenile  production,  while  Ik;  was 
yet  proud  of  his  native  tongue,,  and  revelled,  if  I  may  so 
say,  in  its  wonderful  expressiveness,  which  jierhaps  none 
but  il  native  Scot  can  quite  appreciate,  but  to  which,  I  am 
pleased  to  believe,  the  English  nation  is  bv  de-rces  -ctiiu'r 

,  ,  '  '"^  '■"■  O 

lamiliarized  by  the  works  of  our  great  Scottish  writers.  A 
venerable  and  learned  lord  has  just  written  a  letter*  with  a 
view  to  its  being  miuU  public  on  the  day  of  commemoration, 
of  which  I  have  been  favored  with  a  private  perusal,  and 
that  letter  contains  a  suggestion  so  full  of  erudition  and 
good  sense,  bearing  upon  this  subject,  that  I  hope  it  will 
not  be  thrown  away  upon  the  English  people,  but  that  they 
will  incorporate  into  their  future  dictionaries  most  (if  not 
all)  of  our  expressive  words,  and  so  invigorate  their  feebler 
language.  But  I  fear  I  am  wandering  from  the  immediate 
matter  in  hand— not  but  that  a  digression  is  sometimes 
allowable,  and  even  beneficial. 

Now,  the  next  point  I  would  call  observation  to  is,  that 
in  this  poem,  like  most  others  of  Burns,  love  is  the  toi)ic— 

*Tlie  rcmarkablo  philological  essay  here  lofcriTil  to~i,llv  iiM<t:ikeri  by 
many  south  of  the  Tweed  fer  a  mere  coi.rlrcio  of  tlie  iinl.k"  writ,  r-i^  too 
precious  to  be  left  to  "  wander  unseen,"'  as  it  were  (except  by  a  lew  enthu- 
siastic North  Britons),  in  the  fleeting  columns  of  the  provinei;,!  prons  No'- 
thc  dictum  merits  a  hi-her  ovation.  ]{e.b,lent  as  it  is  of  its  sifted  »uthor-of 
the  7,'room,  broom >j~m»\iwg  so  clean  a  furcrp  of  all  previ/ius  duid.ts  on  tho 
question,  which  it  how  authuntativoiy  ,i,r„i..-,  v,  uiiout  uppe;ii,  we  considered 
it  our  duty  to  call  tho  attention  of  the  heads  of  Imusi's  iu  our  seats  of  learnin" 
to  this  essay,  of  which  a  reprint  was  i-roduced  and  forw.irde.l  to  the  Universi^ 
lies  of  O.Nford  and  Caiubriilvre. 


MA' 


438 


POKTICAL   WOIiKlS  OF  SAM  UK!.  LOVKn. 


pure  aiul  bliimeless  love  ;  for  it  is  evident  tho  lovers  were 
goin<,^  to  be  luiirried;  a  Mui(]eii  Hood,  ho  coiniuou  in  Soot- 
land  (for  iJiuns,  be  it  rennirked,  was  a  strict  observer  of 
nature),  interrupts  them  on  tlieir  way  to  tlie  kirk,  and  the 
brideo-room  rescues  his  bride  from  drowning,  we  m<iy  sup- 
pose,  and  triumphs  in  tho  end,  and 

"  Faulds  Iior  to  Jiis  brcust."' 

The  poem  opens  in  a  sweet  and  unaffected  manner.— 

"  G:nig  v»i'  nic  to  Lixiualoerie." 

And  on  this  line  I  would  remark  that  Lixmaleerie  nuist 
present  a  difficulty  to  an  ordinary  reader,  and  I  will  explain 
its  meaning;.  It  is  known  that  the  French  language  had 
some  influence  in  Scotland,  from  our  unfortunate  Queen 
Mary's  intercourse  and  connection  with  that  country  ;  and 
Lixmaleerie  is  merely  the  giving  of  a  French  title  in  a  fa- 
miliar  or  shortened  mode  (for  I  will  not  use  the  word  cor- 
ruption)—I  say  a  famihar  or  popular  manner  of  catching 
up  a  name  which  the  Scots  did  not  understand,  that  naine 
being  a  French  name.  Now  there  was  a  certain  place  of 
worship,  or  chapel,  or  chantry,  called  reglii^c  de  Marie,— 
whether  specially  tin;  chapel  of  the  Queen  (Mary),  or  a 
chapel  to  the  Virgin,  I  will  not  undertake  to  say  ;  but  the 
entire  place  or  locality  where  this  chapel  stood  became 
knowu  by  tho  title  of  Veglise,  de  Marie,  which  in  course  of 
time,  from  one  change  to  another,  was  abbreviated  to  its 
present  form,  "  Lixmaleerie." 

And  now,  Gentlemen,  I  will  iu',[  interpose  further  betweeu 
you  and  the  plea.sure  that  awa  us  you  in  the  perusal  of  this 
poem,  hitherto  unknown,  of  Scotia's  Immortal  Bard. 

Fergus  M'Fash, 

IkndreUjh. 


\ 


m 


POETICAL  WOUKS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVEH. 


439 


overs  were 
u  in  tSoot- 
bserver  of 
•k,  and  the 
J  iu<iy  siip- 


uer, — 

erle  niusfc 
"ill  expliiiu 
fuage  bad 
ito  Queen 
atry  ;  and 
le  in  a  fa- 
word  cor- 
'  catchinij 
Hiat  n;uae 
L  place  of 
■  Jl/aric, — 
ry),  or  a 
;  but  the 
.1  became 
eouvKC  of 
ted  to  ita 

f  betweeu 
al  of  this 
i. 

SH, 

uirciyh. 


Gang  wi'  inc  to  Lixmaloerie, 
Couthio  dearie, 
I'aukie  dearie, 
Where  Chukumboll  is  clatterin'  cleerie, 

And  lassos  busk  it  gaily,  O ! 
Waukrife  a'  the  nicht  I  lay, 
Whigmaleerie's  toom  to  spae, 
Laith  and  lang,  till  blink  o'  day 

Wad  gie  to  mo  my  Mallie,  O ! 


ir. 


Gang  wi'  mo  to  Lixmaleerie, 
Couthie  dearie, 
Paukie  dearie. 
Where  Clinkumbell  is  clatterin'  cleerie, 

We're  aiblins  baith  expeckit,  O ! 
The  hushion'd  cowt  afore  the  yett, 
WT  cLaup  o'  cloot,  and  crankous  fret,* 
8ecms  bletheriu  "  Lassie,  bide  ye  yet  ? 

M       ^ohu  maun't  bo  negleckit,  0 !" 


i! 


in. 


Gang  wi'  me,  ifccf- 


* 
* 
* 


The  capstane  o'  the  brig  is  cowpit, 
The  jaupin  linn  mauu  aye  be  loupet ; 

•  "The  mipaticnco  of  tlie  Lorso  here,  and  his  seeming  expostulation  with 
<h<5  jrni.  is  n  hnc  idviL'^-^rartjinal  iWHcU-no'.e  on  MS. 
1  Kvidcutly  uuliiiir-hcd. 


4-j.O  romiuAL  wouks  ui<'  .samukl  lover. 

If  we  f;i'  in  ufj'il  ;i'  he  roiipet, 
Mixtie  luaxtie  drociiin  droiikit, 
But  better  f;iv  Hie  inouLs  be  liowkifc, 

Tluni  guld  MeHS-Juhu  Heglcckit,  O! 


% 


Gan 

Avi' 

nio. 

kQ. 

— 

* 

■% 

* 

* 

*  * 

lost  aiimist  my  jo  ! 

Syne  snKl  you  nuui'cczrd*  be, 
I'll  hand  theo  up  siie  tenderly, 
Wow  I  young  guidiuiin,  I'll  bear  the  gree, 

And  fauld  thee  to  my  breest,  my  jo  \ 

X  0  T  E . 

Witli  Krcat  respect  for  Mr.  M'F,isli.  wo  be-'  to  duTrr  from  him  as  to  th* 
(luthcntiuity  of  tliis  poem  Mr.  M'Fiisl,  is  evi.Ipntlv  an  emimsiast,  at  once  in 
admiration  of  Bnniri  a,„l  l,is  own  vernacniar,  and  we  cannot  wond.T,  tiiere- 
tore,  at  his  being  carrird  away  in  tl.is  maticr;  but,  less  entliusia-tic  peciido 
will  remember  tlic  fre(,.ieMcy  of  tlie  like  litrrarv  nii.-talccs.  How  often  slran-o 
old  MSS  turn  up  by  arnd.mt,  or  „.;■  turn,,l.  „r  I'V  tlie  euniims  hands  of 
fabricators!  We  cannot  loi-et  riiattnion  and  Ireland,  and  other  in-'unioiw 
artificers  of  the  same  sort,  and,  in  a  word,  we  imhrsitatimrlv  give  unr  o|)irioi. 
that  the  poem  in  vol  b>j  Jlohvrt  J!,n-^,s.  howcvn-  worthy  it'  is  of  bein<r  .r,v,.i. 
here  as  a  cxrluxs  document  (and  it  is  in  such  ligiit  only  we  would  Inue  it 
looked  upon);  ami  we  would  Inrtii.r  remark  that  there  was  a  son  of  Ihirns 
named  Robert,  after  him,  wlio  was  mu.!,  given  to  rhvmii;-:  ,n„'r.:.  mi.-ht  not 
the  lines  be  his?— i;.  T.  ■■!.,- 


*  How  fine   this  word   "ranifeezl'd 
"fatigued"  is  beside  it  J 


How  jjoor  the    iaiglish   e(jiiivalei»l 


POETICAL   WORKS  OF  SAMUEL  J.OVEIi. 


Ul 


O! 


THE  PENXY-A-LIx\ER'S  HOPE.* 

nv  I!  .  .  .  Y  G  . . 


hL. 


Hope,  llioii  iiuiHi!  of  yoiiiiL,^  dcsiro  ! 


JO' 


n  na  to  th*" 
,  at  once  ii) 
iii(l(-'r,  tliiTc- 

I'teii  strange 

Ig    IliUllls    of 

T  inu'eiiioiw 
our  u|)iiiioii 
b(,'ing  giv(.'i) 
mill  liuve  it 
II  of  lUiiiis, 
/,  nii'^lit  not 


cqiiivaleitl 


1 
( 
J 


I  si-.K,  I  ,sf.(>,  I  fondly  see 

Th.'it  inino  the  Crystal  Trizo  shall  be  ; 

My  iianje  'twill  mark,  and  oij]ar<,'e  my  bound, 

Till  runneth  my  fame  Earth's  regions  round  I 

I'll  siuo-  of  the  clouds  and  moclrthe  skies, 

With  plenty  of  other  briirjit  mockeries. 

I'll  have  a  spree !  Ill  have  a  spree ! 

When  the  fifty  guineas  they  give  to  me  ; 

At  jolly  suppers  cliampaone  shall  How, 

And  revel  rei<^n  where'er  I  go. 

If  a  row  should  arise,  and  awtdve  the  street, 

AVhat  matter  ?— we  the  police  can  beat ! 


II. 


Ill  pride,  iu  pride,  I'll  lo\c  io  ride 

By  the  Serpentine's  and  iu  Fashion's  tide, 

TVhile  Countesses  fair,  Avith  fav'ring  eyes. 

Ogle  the  poet  who  won  the  Triza. 

And  thus  I'll  bask  in  my  neon  of  fame, 

Till  my  porln-inonnaie  is  an  empty  name  : 

*  Aftor  tlie  manner, of  ••  The  Sea.  the  Sea  I" 


^W^'iT^i 


'-***! 


■14.'2  J'OF.TirM.    WOIIXS   i)F  SXMVKi.   l.uVKit. 

And  then,  hard-up,  and  the  rliiiio  gone, 
liv  uiv  peniiv-a-linc  I  ninst  stiil  hold  on, 
And  backward  lly  to  llio  wurk  I  dotest, 
Ab  a  foal  that  socket li  ''-:  old  niare's  ncsi  ; 
For  the  njare  and  her  nest  I'll  alike  despise, 
For  a  fortnight  after  I  wiw  tbc!  Prize  ! 


ni. 

The  poem  will  be  read  the  morn 
Of  the  hundredth  year  that  BunKs  was  born, 
And  tlu  ;i  I'll  touch  the  promised  \^o]<\. 
And  my  jealous  riva.ls  will  f(!el  quite  Hold  ; 
And  ne\er  Mas  i;oar<l  such  an  outcry  wild, 
As  will  welcome  the  jMiise's  favor 'd  child  I 
And  I  will  foiget  the  storm  and  strife 
Of  the  peuny-a-liner's  painful  litV  ; 
And  while  I'm  in  cash  I'll  proudly  range, 
And  forget  I  e\tr  have  sigh'd  for  change  ; 
Nor  thought,  nor  sorrow,  shall  come  to  ms. 
Till  the  last  of  the  lifty  guiueaal  see! 


FOETICAL  WOliKS  UF  iSAMUEL  LOVEU. 


443 


LAY  OF   THE  RAPT  SPIEIT. 

1!y  THK  GlIOHT  OF  A),KXAXI)KK  Poi'K. 


At  the  houso  of  Lady  Boaui'oy,  avLoso  faith  in  the  mys- 
teries of  spiiit-mppiDg  ijiukos  the  seances  at  her  house 
more  than  usually  iutere«ting-,  from  the  most  dist,m,nr:«he(l 
Medunns  bdi.g  enhsted  by  her  ladyship,  ami  the  nu.st 
wonderful  results  being  the  consequence,  a  verv  remarkable 
instance  occurred  about  last  Christmas,  when  the  proposed 
prize  for  the  best  poem  on  the  occasit^n  of  tli,;  jiurns 
Centenary  Festival  at  the  Crystal  Palace  was  soniclinu's 
the  subject  of  conversation  in  society. 

Lady  Beaufoy  had  invited  a  certain  gentleman  to  witness 
the  results  of  one  of  her  ,ea>m:,  hoping  to  convince  him  of 
tbe  truth  of   the  marvellous   intercourse  that   does   really 
exist  between  the  world  of  spirits  and  this  lower  sjihere  of 
ours;  for  hitherto,  this  gentleman  not  only  did  not  believe, 
but  was  rather  a  provoking  scofter  against  th<.s(;  who  did.' 
He  was  therefore  requested  to  test  to  the  utmost  the  mvstic 
power  of  the  science,  and  to  call  for  communication  m.ni 
any  departed  person  whomsoever,  iuul  the  sceptical  gentle-. 
man  suggested  that  the  Spirit  of  Alexaixler  Pope  shotdd  be 
summoned  and  his  opinion  asked  about  the  Crystal  Palace 
ati'air,  the  prize,  el  cwlcra  ;  declaring,  that  if  AlexMmi.M-  P,.pH 
would  do  all  that  should  be  nnpiired,  it  would  be  accc^pred 
ns  proof  positive  of  the  real  power  of  spirit-rapping,  winch 
he  had  hi.therto  doubted. 


AU 


POV/nCM.    WoIlKS  OF  SAMUKl.    LOVKll. 


'llie  {;i(j;it  poi't  Av;is  iiceoniiiij^ly  suiniuoneil,  and  his 
opiiiidii  iislcod  us  to  tiio  iitiiesg  or  unlit uoss  of  llif  proposed 
IV'htiv.nl  !it.  tlu^  Crvstid  rahice.  ][o  deHaiwnl  it  ^v!l.s  most 
littiiiy-  tliid  Jiuiiur  sliould  Ix;  done  to  (l('i)tirted  ponius. 
His  opiuinii  CI  Bunis's  o(.ni„,s  ^vns  then  ii.-l<c(],  and  l;y 
decltuTd  it  to  bo  J':ivoinl)l(j  in  tiio  liighest  degree.  It  was 
then  GUf^gestcd  hy  tlio  ;.ccptical  j^ontleuiiiu,  tha*,  as  liie 
great  jioet  Lad  left  behind  him  in  this  world  tlie  reputation 
of  being  very  jealous,  his  expression  of  admiration  for 
Burns  \vas  not  (piite  in  charactei-,  whvn  the  Si)irit,  in  some 
feeling  Avords,  assured  the  company  that  the  mean  leaven 
cf  jealousy  was  bnt  part  of  the  weakness  of  the  Hesh,  which 
the  spirit  shook  oti'  when  emancipated  from  the  clay  and 
admitted  to  the  regions  of  the  blest,  whi(;h  regions  could 
not  be  blessed  if  jealousy  existed  there.  This  answer  was 
received  with  much  satisfaction  by  the  company,  who  con- 
sidered the  sceptical  gentleman  pretty  well  "set  ilown  "  by 
the  reply  ;  but  he  returned  to  the  charge  in  a  fashion  whicli 
lie  intended  to  be  a  coup  dc  r/race  to  the  spirit-rappei-s,  by 
recpiesting  that  Alexander  Pope  would  have  the  goodness 
to  give  his  answers  in  rhymed  verse.  This  was  objected 
to  by  some  cf  the  company,  as  expecting  too  nmch  ;  but 
the  sceptical  gentleman  said  that  Pope  bin. self,  when  alive, 
declared  that  the  production  of  verse  to  him  was  no  effort 
Avhatever,  but  rather  an  involuntary  act  of  nature,  th.-it  he 
bad  thus  spoken  of  himself  :— 

"  As  yet  a  cliild,  and  a'.l  iinkiiowu  to  faiuo, 
1  lisp'd  iti  numbers,  for  the  niiniber.4  came." 

And  that  what  was  easy  to  a  mortal  child  conld  prove  no 
dillicidty  to  an  immortal  spirit.  It  will  be  readily  perceived 
tluii,  iiu;  ^fijlU-man's  object  in  making  this  move  was  to 
throw  such  a  diliiculty  in  the  way  of  the  j\[edium  as  to 
render  imposition  impossible  ;  and  hence  the  objection  of 


and    Lis 
proposod 

VilS     IlKiSt 

I  t't'i litis. 
,  .'iiid  lio 
It  \v;iH 
k,  US  tiio 
?putiiiiou 
xtiun   for 

in  some 
,11  ieuAou 
ill,  which 
clay  and 
US  could 
iwer  was 
vho  con- 
own  "  by 
m  which 
(peivs,  by 
[ifoodnesH 
objected 
ich  ;  but 
len  alive, 
uo  effort 

that  he 


jrove  no 
lerceived 

!    V,-US    to 

m   as  to 
sction  of 


l'l)Krii:M.    WilUKS  OF  SAMUKL  LOVKIi. 


U'i 


the  company  to  the  proposition  ;  benco,  also,  the  reason 
why  the  sceptical  geutiemaii  insisted  on  the  condition. 

]\[uch  to  the  sceptic's  surprise,  throe  distinct  taps  were 
heard,  and  Lady  ]}eanfoy  and  lier  faithful  friends  inter- 
chan.^ed  sniih^s,  as  (lu;  llireo  taps  indicated  assent  from  the 
Spirit,  and  the  lucky  number  three  was  interpreted  to 
imply  a  successful  issue  to  the  event.  A  breathless  silence 
ensued.  Tlie  sceptical  gentleman  requested  that  Alexander 
l*ope  would  extemporize  some  verses  immediately  ou  the 
Burns  Centenary  Festival  ;  and  the  INCedium  bowing  assent, 
a  single  tap  succeeded,  and  the  Spirit  jocosely  declared  that 
if  his  verses  were  considered  worth  a  rap,  the  comjiany  was 
heartily  welcome  to  them.  Immediately,  in  a  sweet  faint 
voice,  Avas  given  the  following  effusion  : — 

Awake,  Directors  ! — leave  your  fountain's  tide 

To  tickle  Paxton's  water-towering  pride  ; 

Pluck  from  your  hiurell'd  shades  the  simple  bough 

(Befitting  crown  for  Peasant-Poet's  brow). 

And  make  high  festival  to  mark  the;  morn 

"When,  for  the  world's  enchantment,  Burns  was  born  ! 

The  conip[uiy  here  could  not  resist  a  low  murmur  of 
applause,  while  looks  of  wonder  were  exchanged  ;  and  the 
sceptical  gentleman  seemed  cpiite  taken  aback.  A  gently 
}nurmured  "  Hush  "  recalled  the  company  to  silence,  and  a 
few  faint  tinklings,  as  of  a  lyre,  giving  the  idea  of  the 
accompaniiuent  of  a  celestial  harp,  succeeded.  Again  the 
voice  was  heard,  as  follows  : — • 

"While  yet  a  boy,  to  manly  work  aspiring. 
The  golden  grain  he  reaps,  and  all  untiring. 
As,  eyeing  the  sweet  gleaner  at  bis  side, 
He  sees  cpiick-falling  sheaves  as  quickly  tied  ;   . 


ini 


i'OKIlCM.    WdUKS   of  SAMUKI.    I.OVKH. 


!!■ 


Aiul  toil  is  plousure,  sweetcu'd  by  the  spt.li 

Tliut  chiu-ui'il  111'  uuooiiscious  youth  luui  ni;iid  .-is  well ; 

For  then  I'u-st  lij^htod  was  the  siibtlo  lliuio 

AVhosc  -warmth  lie  kii(;w  before  ho  know  its  name. 

-*.'ain  there  was  an  iiiferruptiou  of  fiofHy-murniiiro.l 
■j-l  liiuso,  ami  a  silence  of  sonio  seconds  succeeding-,  it 
was  siijiposed  the  Poet-Spirit  had  conclude*!,  and  the  scep- 
tical gentleman  (much  shaken  in  his  scepticism)  inquired, 
with  marked  respect  in  his  manner,  if  the  illustrious  dvm\ 
would  sa^Vfv  !;!"!  that  it  was  likely  Burns  composed  verses 
as  early  as  his  biograpuers  asserted.     The  voice  resumed  :— 

Lovo  and  ambition  are  contiguous  fire  ; — 

"We  wjuld  excel  wherever  wo  admire. 

Passion,  that  scorns  to  ])lead  in  humble  phrase, 

"Will  dare  to  enuxlate  the  poet's  lays. 

So  the  young  reaper  first  essay 'd  the  shell, 

To  rhyme  the  beauties  of  his  lovely  Nell. 

Oh,  lost  to  fame,  and  mute  were  many  a  stiiiig, 

Had  Love  not  waked  it  with  K    passing  win-. 

The  ladies  here  could  not  resist  testifying  thei:    idmi     - 
tion,  and  a  slij^^dit  flutter  of  fans,  like  W.    rustling  of  nngelu; 
whigs,  mingled  entrancingly  with  a  few  faint  chord        '  tin 
invi^ble  harp.     Agtiul-  tap  rccallrd  them  to  si     ,ce,  an 
the  voice  continued  : — 

Next  !-      the  ploughman  while  the  dawn's  yet  gray 
Speeding  to  early  toil  his  upland  wa\. 
Though  early  he,  yt  earlier  far  is  one, 
Climbing  ...,  loftier  height  to  meet  the  sun, 
And  pour  vith  tunefid  throat,  in  joyous  lay, 
His  greeting  at  the  golden  ga*    of  day  I 


, 


i  well ; 


mn!iii!('«l 
(ediii<4',  it 
the  sccj)- 
iiujuireii, 
i(»ua  (Icjul 
ed  verses 
lUiued  :— 


ulini; 


lIk 


ace,  an 


I 


PomiCAL  WOUKS  OF  SAMUKI.   LOVKH. 

luwi       ,  Hio  plouf^hman  pauses  for  a  time, 
To  \u    i  tliiit  sweetest  of  ail  niatiii  eljidie  ; 
'Ti.s  svinpuUiy  !— 'tis  not  the  sensuous  e:ir 
Alone  enjoys  that  lofty  sonj,' so  deiir  ; 
]lis  soul  partakes  in  tho  melodious  lliuht  ; 
He  loves  tbo  music  and  would  daie  the  height  ; 
Would  grasp  tho  pleasure  of  thai  soaring  yuice ! 
Itself  rejoicing,  making  all  rejoiee  ! 
'Twas  thus  the  poet's  soul  within  him  stii .  'd 
He  felt  his  mission  as  he  heard  tho  bird, 
Soaring  instinctively  its  kindred  bkies, 
Like  him  inspired  to  sing,  inspired  to  rise  ! 

Too  oft  the  bard  of  old  eouid  but  alW.rd 

Poetic  homage  to  his  chief  or  lord  ; 

.  quander'd  on  feasts  and  frays  the  miijstrel's  art, 

And  praised  the  pomp  of  which  himself  was  part. 

In  later  days  it  was  for  kings  and  peers 

The  rhymer  wrought  his  ready  smiles  or  tears  ; 

Or  to^somo  patron  Crrcsus  bent  the  knee, 

And  flattev'd  for  a  dedication-fee. 

The  Muses  wept  o'er  such  degenerate  times, 

And  outraged  truth  disowu'd  the  venal  rhymes. 

A  nobler  nature  and  a  larger  heart, 

In  Burns  expanded  the  poetic  art. 

He  to  no  paltry  limit  caged  his  mind  ; 

His  ami)le  wing  encircled  all  mankind! 

Too  proud  his  spirit  for  a  patron's  rule, 

Too  fresh  his  genius  for  a  faded  school  ; 

Too  bold  from  tame  (      .luals  to  trace, 

He  snatch 'd  from  Nature's^   va:  the  wilder  grace — 

A  grace  that  schools  could  never  yet  impart. 

And  erst  declaukd  by  me  "  m:voND  the  iieacii  of  art." 


447 


■MS 


l'<iK'lliM.    WORKS   (iF  SAMlKt.    I.OVKIl. 


■ 


Tiii.s  i(  pctiiioii  ut  the   IVxt's  own  cole  bruteil  wonls  pro 
diieed  ii  luurlaMl  8(>ns!itioii. 

And  ln'1'i-  till)  ( undid  (Miiic  must  iidniiro 

Tlio  poet's  wit,  and  tendt-vnos.s  and  lire, 

Tim  coniprohonHivo  mind,  tho  varied  power  ; 

To  800  the  oul^tretch'd  "  front  of  batth;  Invver," 

And  triuinph  witli  a  hero  in  tho  van — 

Or  mourn  "  Tho  IMountain  Daisy's  "  shortou'd  span  ; 

Or  ^nvo  his  \n{y  lo  u  startlo<l  "  Mouse," 

And  read  a  nnn'.d  I'loni  its  ruiu'd  liouse. 

^V]leth(■l•  the  sniii,>  or  tear  liis  muse  would  claim, 

For  "  Tarn  O'Saantei/'  or  -To  Mary's"  name, 

(S1h>  iVoni  th(>  loviii-'  poet's  hosom  riven, 

To  whom  liis  sl-lis  iVoiu  e.iitli  were  breathed  to  Heaven), 

He  lielil  in  every  mood,  av  nrav(>  or  !■■  iv, 

O'er  captive  sympathy  nnI)ounded  sum  v. 

The  peacernl  meadow,  or  the  l)ii!t!e-lifld, 

(Jould  each  to  him  poi  !i('  siihjcel.  yield  : 

Whether  the  timid  hare  awohc^  his  hiv, 
Or  daring'  monareii,  with  his  i',i,.  ;it  bav,  t 

He,  small  or  <^reat,  wit'n  (■•,jii,il  jtower  could  sing, 
The  h(  ro  of  Ijia  Held,  a  ji.ae  or  kinj^'. 

And  here  let  generous  hearts  breathe  freely  forlU 
This  tribute  to  our  brothers  of  tlie  Nortli  :  — 
Whene'er  to  valiant  ldn,^^s  the  cup  is  crowu'tl. 
Or  when  to  bards  tho  shells  of  joy  qo  round, 
Tlien  Scotia,  great  in  arms  and  arts,  may  rise, 
And,  through  a  vista  In-ight  of  centuries, 
Point  proudly,  as  her  loving  glance  she  turns 
To  king  find  poet  Robert— Bruce  and  Burns ! 


Here  a  lady  whispered  to  lier  neighbor  so  audibly  that 


/:. 


Poetical  wohks  of  samukl  lovkh. 


\  \Yoi'tlrf  pro 


sp.'vn ; 


:n, 


0  Heaven), 


U 


44U 


liblv  that 


the  whole  company  heard  her,  that  she  wa8  hncally  aoscori  .1,  ■  ^ 
from  the  hero  of  BannoclvI)urn,  rnd  was  cousin  to  wo  , 
Elgin,  the  IVIinister  Plenijjotentiary  to  China.  A  som  /J  at 
reproving  "  tch-nh  "  restored  silence.  And  tlio  Hpirit- 
Voice,  with  most  pathetic  intonation,  continued  :— 

The  King  has  had  his  meed  ;— not  so  tlio  Bard  :— 

Oil.  child  of  ^renins,  oft  thy  fate  is  hard  1 

Neglected  liviny.  and  adored  when  dead  ;— 

Unpaid  the  honor  till  the  pall  is  spread  ! ' 

But  though  a  passing  sigh  the  bard  may  claim, 

Cloud  not  the  day  propitious  to  his  fame  ; 

The  duty  by  the  siro  that's  left  undone. 

Is  doubly  graceful,  render'd  by  the  son  ; 

The  Bard  himself,  the  generous  lord  of  song. 

In  life  had  loved  to  see  a  righted  wrong  :— 

And  as  departed  spirits  love  to  hear 

The  heart's  outpourings  of  this  nether  sphere,— 

These  two  last  lines  were  given  with  great  solemnity,  and 
Ladj  Beaufoy,  in  an  almost  spectral  manner,  pointed  at  the 
sceptical  gentleman,  who  became  visibly  pale,  and  some 
declared  the  wax  candles  burned  blue. 

His  phantom  form,  in  fleeting  mist  or  foam. 
Haunting  his  hiUs,  where  Echo  makes  her  home, 
May  catch  the  distant  shout  by  thousands  made, 
And  the  faint  sound  may  soothe  the  fainter  shade. 

Such  shouts  will  rise  amidst  the  goblet's  flow. 
To  that  j^rcat  day,  a  hundred  vears  a^-o 
When  Nature  in  her  darkest  hour  did  choose 
To  make  the  brightest  era  of  the  muse. 


J:50 


POETICAL  WORKS  OF   'lAMUKL  LOVER. 


—Not  Spring  witli  all  her  early  flowers  can  cheer 
The  heart  with  promise  iu  the  op'uing  year, 
Nor  Summer,  with  her  zone  oi"  sunshine  bound, 
Nor  Autumn,  with  her  gokloii  harvests  crown'd, 
Can  match  with  Winter',s  glory  in  tiiat  morn 
She  wove  a  sno-.v-wreath,  when  Thk  Baud  v/as  l^orn. 
Prophetic  wreath  !— a  wioath  of  frozen  tears — 
Fit  garland  for  his  briof  and  blighted  years. 
Prophetic  wreath  !— fair  herald  of  renown, 
Bright  promise  of  the  future  laurel  crown  ! 
Immortal  wreath  ! — 'twas  snatch'd  by  fame  away, 
And  to  Parnassus  borne  ; — Apollo's  ray 
Touch'd  the  pure  coronal  with  ardent  beam, 
And  Scotia's  snow-wreath  sweil'd  Castalia's  stream! 


There  was  a  flourish  of  the  invisible  harp  ;  the  lights 
resumed  their  lively  flame  ;  -arious  expressions  of  admi- 
ration and  wonder  ran  round  tlie  rooni.  Lady  Beaufoy 
approached  her  guest,  who  Iiad  been  the  causo  of  this 
wonderful  seance,  and,  shaking  her  fan  playfully  (and  yet 
somewhat  earnestly)  over  him,  said  iu  thi-  tones,  ditfi- 
cult  to  resist,  "Kneel  down  at  ray  feet  th  .  :^oment,  and 
ask  pardon,  you  hardened  scofier,  for  your  former  sueers 
at  our  mysteries,  and  acknowledge,  with  Hamlet,  that 

'  TluM-e  arc  more  things  in  Jicavcn  and  cartli,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  iu  your  philosophy.'  " 


I"   -3 


THE    END. 


f.!^% 


